Limbo
by pursuitofirony
Summary: After a night of drinking and flirting, best friends Rick and Michonne wind up in bed together, but things don't go quite smoothly for them after that, as Michonne wants to remain friends. They agree to forget the night ever happened, but can they? AU, no walkers.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, all!**

 **This is my first attempt at a Rick and Michonne AU fabfiction, and it's a little something different for me, but I hope it's good and you like it!**

:

Michonne awoke with a start, stretching her sore muscles. She looked around for a moment, trying to remember what happened last night, but all she could remember was flashes of lips on skin, and hungry cobalt blue eyes on her own. Her heartbeat quickened when she saw it, him. His sun-kissed back, and curls that sat at the nape of his thick neck. He slept on his back, she smiled to herself for a second, he always did.

As soon as she recognized that it was him - Rick - she began to panic. Not because it was bad, or that it would be awkward, but because it was arguably the best sex of her life and it just so happened to be with a man that she'd considered her best friend for nearly nine years.

They'd met in law school; bright eyes and bushy tailed, filled with wonder about the future. She'd gone on to become to District Attorney, and he'd become a Sheriff Deputy in the small town of King County, but the friendship had remained. During that time, they were close, so close in fact that many wondered if they were dating or if they would, but the two of them were genuinely just close friends.

She couldn't imagine her life without him in it, but last night, things had changed between them. He'd looked at her with something akin to carnal lust in his eyes. He'd wanted her, desperately.

And sitting there now, sheet draped over her naked body, she couldn't help but feel confused by the emotions swimming within her already clouded mind.

"You gonna sit there all day starin' into space?" Came Rick's husky voice. It was gravelly and deep. "Or you can come back over here."

Michonne felt panicked again, as a warmth and a tingle jolted between her thighs at the sound of his voice. She'd slept overnight with him before, had heard him in the morning, but now after knowing what he could do with those plump pink lips, she couldn't focus or breathe.

She turned to face him, and she became distracted by the way the white sheet fell low on his hips. His sculpted chest was exposed to her, as well as his loose, messy curls. A smirk was on his lips as he awaited her answer.

"Last night," she began apprehensively. "It was great, but...it was a mistake."

She waited for his answer, noting that his lighthearted expression quickly grew cold and tense, and his usually warm electric blue eyes had turned a withering, almost artic hue. A big part of her wanted to go to him, and wrap her arms around his middle. She wanted to tell him that it would be fine, that they could make this work, but she knew in her heart that she couldn't be what he wanted. At least not right now.

During their friendship, she'd seen Rick marry his high-school sweetheart, Lori Anne Stewart. She was everything that a small town boy like him craved in a girl: pretty, popular, and narrow minded about their future.

They'd had a son together, Carl, who was now nearly eleven years old, but their divorce three years ago had left Rick hollow, and empty for awhile. Michonne knew that Rick wanted marriage and children, and she just couldn't provide those things for him. Not anymore.

"Why?" Rick asked.

He scrunched up his eyebrows, and tilted his head to the side. Michonne stated longingly at those messy locks of his, longing to run her errant fingers through the silky tresses, but she stopped herself. She had to focus.

"I just...," Michonne sighed, struggling for words. "It just was."

"That's not a good enough reason," Rick challenged her. "If you don't want this to happen again, then you're gonna have to tell me why."

Michonne sighed once more, but this time in frustration. She got up from her spot on the bed and began pulling on her underwear, pants, and t-shirt. She couldn't find her damn bra, which she remembered Rick throwing somewhere across the room, but that didn't matter. The room suddenly felt like the inside of a vacuum cleaner, except instead of air and debris, it was sucking up her ability to fight whatever she felt for this man.

"Look, we had a good time, but I don't want what you want. And I don't want that to ruin what we've been building for so long," she admitted.

He simply stared at her, taking in her impassioned, yet detached words. He still felt her, all of her, and didn't know how to carry on with that knowledge. He watched as Michonne slipped on her shoes, and walk to his bedroom door.

"If you leave this room, then we can forget this ever happened. We go on, but if you stay, then we can start somethin' wonderful," Rick said, not moving from his spot on the bed, but his eyes conveyed every emotion running through his heart and soul. He loved her, he always had, and always would. "It'd hurt me if you walk out that door, but I'll take you in whatever way I can."

Michonne nodded at him, unable to process his words and left out the door, knowing that her choice meant that she had to forget what they'd done and created the night before.

:

Rick walked into the coffee shop a few hours later with his close friend Glenn, and Glenn's wife Maggie. As always, the two were questioning him about the night before, wondering if he'd finally met "the one," and he of course was distant and enigmatic as ever about it.

If he were being honest with himself, he had no idea what was going on. He and Michonne had slept together last night, after flirting and making out like teenagers in a back room, but this morning she'd told him that she just wanted to remain friends. And since he wanted her in his life whichever way she'd have him, he relented. But the truth was, that his feelings for her were the reason why his ex-wife Lori had left him, but he'd never tell her that. He'd never told anyone.

"Earth to Rick!" Glenn called out, snapping in front of Rick's zoned out face.

"Sorry, what?" Rick asked him.

"Maggie and I were just asking if you finally met someone at the party last night!" Glenn responded a little too eagerly. "We saw you with Michonne-"

"Michonne and I are _just friends,_ " Rick said swiftly, almost defensively.

"So I guess that's a no, then?" Glenn continued on. "I could set you up on a date with this girl I know. I think her name is Jessie, or something like that."

Rick pondered the idea for a second, his mind flashing back to Michonne and their night together. He remembers it so vividly that he can almost taste her sweet skin on his lips, and the feel of her tight body underneath him and over him as she drove herself to completion. But then he remembers her words this morning, and his promise to her and he decides that maybe it is best that they stay friends. Maybe he should at least try dating someone else, as he hadn't since his divorce.

"Okay, I'll go out with her," Rick finally agrees, which causes Maggie to squeal and hug him with delight.

:

After sitting down in the small coffee shop, Maggie spent the next fifteen minutes rattling on about pregnancy hormones and the horrors of natural birth until something, or in Rick's case, someone caught his eye. It was her - Michonne - of course it was, as it was her favorite coffee shop. Next to her was two of her closest friends, Andrea and Sasha.

"Rick, are you even listening to me? What are you staring at?" Maggie finally asked, turning around to see them standing there, and suddenly she understood. Her bright green eyes sparkled as she waved them over to join them at the table.

"Michonne!" Maggie called out. "Sasha, Andrea! Come on, we've got plenty of room."

Michonne, who looked just as out of sorts as Rick did, and apprehensively approached the table and took the empty seat right across from Rick. She stared at him for one long moment, as flashes of his soft, pink lips kissing down her body entered her mind, as well as images of her on top of him, his full length enveloping her. She'd never felt so completely full in all of her life. Her eyes dragged themselves up to his salt and pepper beard, and those now neatly tucked beard.

 _Was he always this fine?_ Michonne pondered to herself. _Or am I just finally noticing it._

"So, where'd y'all disappear to last night?" Maggie asked, shaking Michonne out of her lascivious thoughts.

Michonne chanced a glance at Rick, who was looking anywhere but at her. She turned to face Maggie, forcing her face into a nonchalant smile, and quickly thought of a lie. "Rick wanted to show me where the beer was, and we lost track of time. He drove me home."

Maggie stared at her, her light eyes trying to discern whether or not she was telling the truth or not, but Michonne's career as a lawyer left her as a seasoned liar. She stared right back, arching her eyebrow up as if daring Maggie to try something, anything, but she didn't and so the matter was left alone.

A silence fell upon the table then, as everyone began to eat. Michonne felt intense gaze on her as she tried to eat, but couldn't. Her eyes found themselves on him again, as those same lips wrapped around his scrambled eggs. She realized that he didn't just eat his food, she noted; he _worshipped_ it, sucking and pulling each piece in between his lips before swallowing and humming in satisfaction. As she stared, she felt herself growing warm and wet. How could a simple act like eating make her so aroused now? She had to get out of there.

It was at that point that she realized that Andrea had been yammering on the whole time.

"-And I was just telling Shane about it," Andrea finished the tail end of whatever she was talking about. "Michonne, you down?"

"Down for what?"

Michonne was flustered, but Andrea just giggled. "We're going clubbing together after work tomorrow, and Shane is bringing his buddy from work to meet you!"

The way Andrea said it, in such an enthusiastic manner made Michonne's stomach churn. She chanced a glance at Rick, whose jaw clenched, but he continued eating his food as if it didn't matter to him at all.

Michonne thought about it for a second, chewing her full lips. "Okay, I'll meet this guy," she finally agreed.

" _Finally_!" Glenn nearly cheered. "We're getting the two recluse hermits to go out on dates."

"What do you mean?"

Michonne tried to act nonchalant about it, but now the thought of him dating some other girl made her feel some sort of way. She had never felt this feeling before, and didn't know how to take it, so she didn't.

"I set up Rick with Jessie," Glenn shrugged, eyes darting between the two friends.

" _Oh_ ," Michonne said simply.

"Just ' _oh'_?" Rick finally asked from his spot right next to to her. He ran a hand through his slicked back curls and titled his head to the side, a small grin forming on his lips. "I thought Miss. Lawyer would have more to say than that."

"Well, _excuse me_ , Officer," she leaned into him, matching his smirk. "I don't respond to basic."

"And who is 'basic'?" Rick asked, his eyes gleaming.

"Jessie," Michonne shrugged. "I've met more interesting things at Lowes while being torn between off white and beige."

Rick hissed, and then chuckled. "You seem to care an awful lot about her."

"I'm just saying, you could do better," Michonne offered, and then hastily stuffed her food in her mouth as she felt Rick's eyes on her, all over her.

Their friends just stared at the exchange with knowing eyes, not saying anything.

:

Later that night, Michonne sat on her couch in her small apartment in downtown Atlanta. She wore casual clothing; a tank top, and some sweats, and her dreads were pulled up into a loose ponytail. Sasha sat next to her, her work clothes still on, and the stress of her job apparent, but she listened to her friend who was currently scarfing down Chinese takeout.

"I still can't believe that he's actually going out with her," Michonne huffed as she inhaled her Egg Foo Yung. "I mean, she's so basic, and I thought Lori was basic."

Sasha just laughed, and then shrugged at her friend's obvious jealousy. "Girl, why do you care?"

"Rick is my best friend. Why wouldn't I care?" Michonne argued.

"If you're just friends then who he's dating doesn't matter. And that boy is fine, but he's white, so maybe he's into basic white girls," Sasha said, slurping a noodle into her mouth.

"You're right," Michonne conceded. "I just - Rick is particular about what he wants."

"You speak as if you want to be the one that he's with, and you easily could be," Sasha told her.

"I know," Michonne admitted.

:

Rick sat in his squad car with close friend and partner Shane. For most of the ride, things had been silent, as Rick's thoughts were becoming more and more preoccupied by Michonne. He kept wondering if it was the right decision to let her walk out of that door, or if he should have fought harder. Ultimately, he knew that he couldn't force Michonne to want the same things or feel the same way. That was useless.

He didn't really want to date Jessie Anderson, but he also didn't know how long he'd have to wait for Michonne. He just wanted to maybe see what was out there for him, if there was something, but his heart was dead set on the girl that had left his bed this morning.

A part of him felt some kind of way about Michonne dating this college buddy of his, but not him. But he'd never admit that to anyone.

"Do you know anything about that guy that Andrea set Michonne up with?" Rick asked Shane.

Shane's eyebrows went up. Rick never asked him about women. "Why?"

"I'm just curious," Rick answered.

"He's this guy that we went to college with," Shane admitted. "Honestly, I just set 'Chonne and him up so that Andrea could put out. It's been weeks man," Shane said, his face dropping in mock sadness. "I'm suffering."

"I bet," Rick smiled sadly.

Shane tilted his head, staring introspectively at his friend. "Somethin' going on with y'all?"

"With who?"

Rick shifted a bit in his seat, deciding to play dumb, but Shane wasn't buying it. "You two have been acting weird as hell, and I saw you leave the party looking mighty cosy."

Still, Rick didn't budge. "Nothing happened, I just don't want her dating the wrong guy."

"You keep telling yourself that, buddy," Shane shrugged.

Before Rick could utter any sort of retort, the radio came on, signaling a disturbance. And, like always, it was their job to stop it.

:

 _Last night_

 _Michonne sauntered into the party, the bright red dress that she wore left nothing to the imagination and hugged ever curve of her long, lithe body. Across the room from her, Rick stood, drink in hand, watching her. He'd never lervhimself openly ogle her before. And even when she came closer and closer to him, he just watched, spellbound._

 _"Hey," she greeted him. "In all my years, I've never seen you at the bar alone."_

 _"I was just waiting for you," he winked, pulling her favorite drink - vodka on the rocks - off the counter, and handed it to her. "Already had your drink ready. I know exactly what you like."_

 _Michonne flushed, her cheeks growing warm at the innuendo. Was that as flirty to him as it was to her? "I know you do."_

 _Rick coughed, trying to mask whatever this was that was brewing just beneath the surface. His eyes roamed over her figure, deftly landing on her supple breasts, which were barely covered in her plunging, halter top dress. Her dark ebony skin was smooth, and soft, and his mouth watered at the thought of tasting it. He licked his lips, and shook his head, hoping that Michonne couldn't read minds._

 _"So, you liking this party?" Rick asked._

 _Michonne snorted, and moved closer to him. "You've got to do better with the small talk. Ask me something more personal."_

 _"Fine," Rick said, deciding to push things even further. "Do you wanna try body shots? I heard Glenn setting it up in the living room and-"_

 _Before Rick could get the words out, Michonne grabbed his arm and pulled him backwards towards the living area, and he knew that if things continued like this, then ultimately, they'd wind up doing something that they'd regret, but when her warm hand was around his own, he simply couldn't find it in him to care._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author note: The response to this fic has been great, and encouraging! I'll try my best to keep updating it. In this chapter, you will get some backstory on Michonne, and why they've never dated before now. Hope you like it!**_

 **Chapter Two: Something Missing**

The next morning, Michonne sat huddled over her son's grave. Andre Anthony Williams, her little boy, so bright eyed and naive about the dangers of the world. She remembered it all so vividly too, that night of her son's passing. It was a little over three years ago, and it was a late summer's day. Her three-year-old son had been playing in the front yard with his father Mike when the unthinkable happened. They were both gunned down in broad daylight by a random assailant, who killed nearly seven others before ending his own life.

The man, the police noted, was a white nationalist with a chip on his shoulder, but it had cost her her son and his father. She'd found it hard to grow close to anyone after that, but it'd brought her even closer to Rick.

She thinks back to all of the time that they'd spent together then, with him helping her through the funeral arrangements, the wake, the time that she needed to take off of work. She even remembers him moving her into his home briefly, and the guilt at his marriage ending around the same time.

She'd always hoped that Lori hadn't held that against her, but she had envied Lori at the time. Rick was devoted, Rick was strong, Rick was good; but, Lori seemed to push him away even more. She'd had a front row seat to the dissolution of their marriage, and she couldn't help but hate herself a bit.

As she turned back to face Andre's grave, she took in a deep breath. "Kiddo," she began. "Mommy misses you very much, and she's going to come back and see you again next month. Okay, peanut?"

 _Silence_.

That's all there ever was, but she took it and breathed in deep, collecting herself a bit so that she could carry on and do her job efficiently. She had to stop thinking about what had taken place with Rick, and instead focus on her date tonight, and doing something that didn't require her to become so emotionally invested. That's all she could do.

:

Rick knocked on the door of his ex-wife's home, intent on picking up Carl for the week. Usually, things went smoothly, but sometimes Lori liked to make things difficult, or she liked to pretend that they were still married and that she could tell him what he needed to do with his life.

He continued to wait, as thoughts filled his mind about just how things had ended up the way that they were now. He remembers it vividly, all of those years ago when he'd met Lori, when he'd gotten engaged to her, and somewhere along the line, when he'd met Michonne. He remembers how beautiful he thought she was; he remembers how she took his breath away, but he couldn't be with her because he had a son with Lori. A little boy who was only two-years-old.

It was then that Lori appeared with that same boy. His favorite boy. His Carl, who doned his father's old Sheriff Deputy hat over his overgrown, silky locks that fell into his grey eyes. He'd grown over the summer, and nearly towered over his father, and it was hard to believe that they boy wasn't even eleven yet.

"Hello, Rick," Lori said pleasantly. "I've packed Carl's lunch. He has a group Science project with Enid and Duane, so you'll need him to meet up with him, and-"

"Lori," he cut her off.

She sighed, running her hand through her long, brunette locks. "Yes?"

"He's not gonna die in my care," Rick said, chuckling a bit, but Lori remained stoned faced and anxious.

"That friend of yours - Michonne - how much time has she been spending with Carl?"

"A lot," Rick said casually. "Why?"

"I don't mind the woman anymore, Rick," her words were pointed with underlying venom. "But please tell her to stop giving my son these violent comic books. He's just a little boy."

Rick found himself laughing. "You're being ridiculous. Carl is ten."

"Ten is too young to be looking at books about death and violence! It's not like you don't do that for a living and leave him uncertain about his future!" Her voice rose higher and higher.

Rick was dumbfounded, speechless even at her impassioned speech. He'd thought that the issue with Michonne was solved when they divorced, but apparently not, as she was hell bent on starting something over absolutely nothing.

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, and breathed in and out. "Carl, go wait in the car while your mother and I talk."

"But, dad I-"

Rick cut him off with a hard glare. "Go."

The young boy sighed, his light eyes darting between his two tense parents, and, without a word he headed off to the hard with harsh, heavy steps.

"What is your problem?" Rick finally asked her.

He was frustrated. Mostly by the fact that Michonne had not texted, nor called him since they'd had sex, and he missed her dearly. It was hard to go from talking to someone every day, hearing their thoughts on every aspect of your life, to nothing. Usually, she'd text him a cute little picture and anecdote each morning, and he'd respond with his own. Sometimes she'd tell him her dreams, sometimes it'd be something funny that she saw on TV, and sometimes she'd just make fun of him. It made his morning, and it made Lori easier to deal with.

"What do you think my problem is, Rick? For years you've been preoccupied with a woman that is not me. I don't even know why you married me in the first place," she spat, slamming the door in his face.

"We're not anymore," Rick whispered to no one in particular as he walked back to Carl.

:

"Are we gonna see Miss. Michonne today?" Carl asked, bouncing eagerly on the front seat. "I finally finished my Walking Dead comic, and I wanted to ask what happens to the main character..."

Rick felt his heart drop at the sound of his son's eagerness. The boy and Michonne were thick as thieves, and had been every since Carl could talk. She'd bought him his first book, seen his first steps, and helped him through his first kindergarten crush. She was like a second mom, and he hoped that he hadn't damaged their relationship.

"Miss. Michonne has been a bit busy with work. But when she's not busy, she'll tell you, okay?"

Carl bounced his head up and down once more, like an overzealous puppy. "Okay!"

:

Michonne and Andrea sat together at the salon getting pedicures, their feet submerged in murky, hot water. Andrea apparently wanted to make Michonne over, or treat her, or whatever it was that Andrea wanted to do. And Michonne was trying, trying to live her life and be a good friend, but it was hard. She kept staring at her phone or gripping it, craving to text Rick or talk to him, but she couldn't. She didn't quite know how to yet.

"I don't know why you needed to take me out to get all done up," Michonne rolled her eyes as she settled further back into her pedicure chair. "It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal? You haven't dated anyone in a year! Haven't fucked anyone in a whole year!" Andrea said, loudly, which caused everyone in the salon to look back at her.

"Andrea, stop telling everyone my business!" Michonne whisper-yelled.

"I'm just saying! How long has it been?"

Michonne slumped down into her seat, suddenly feeling warm as flashes of lips licking drinks from in between her breasts ghosted through her mind. Her cheeks grew warm. She could no longer concentrate on Andrea or anything else. _What the fuck was happening to her?_ She wondered. Earlier that day she'd drawn a penis and doodled Rick's name on an important case report, which caused her boss to give her the side eye. She couldn't even explain herself after that.

"Wait a second. You got some at that party!" Andrea yelled again, which caused the group of women to look over once more. "Bitch, spill!"

"Andrea, I haven't slept with anyone at all," Michonne rolled her eyes. "And you haven't even told me who I'm supposed to be going on a date with."

"It's this guy named Phillip," Andrea shrugged. "Shane and Rick went to college with him."

"How come they've never mentioned him before? He sounds shady," Michonne narrowed her eyes and sat up straight again.

"Michonne, you've got to relax. You know, one day you're going to actually meet a guy that you care about and ruin it. Do you trust anyone?" Andrea asked, her deep blue eyes filled with unresolved anguish.

"I do," Michonne smiled sadly, and averted her eyes away.

 _I trust Rick_ , she thought, but didn't verbalize.

:

Rick buttoned up the last button in his Henley, and slipped on his watch. Afterwards, he smoothed back his curls and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked good. His face was clean shaven, eyes steely, skin tan and clear; he looked like he was about to take on the town, but all of it felt wrong. But, he knew that he had to carry on with this date and at least try, but unable to help himself, he snapped a selfie in the mirror, and sent it to Michonne.

 _ **I look like an idiot**_.

After sending it, he felt like one too. Why was he texting a girl that he'd had sex with not even two days ago when he was supposed to be going out on a date with someone else. But, a second later his phone went off, and of course he looked at the incoming text

 _ **I bet you feel like one too.**_

 _ **You read my mind.**_

 _ **You're pretty easy to read.**_

He began to breathe heavier, anxious and unsure of how to respond, so he didn't respond. And even if he wanted to, a knock at the door took him out of his thoughts.

There at the door was his date, Jessie Anderson, and he kind of recognized her as the girl from the front office who answered the phones, but he wasn't sure. He heard Michonne's "basic" comment, and chuckled to himself.

"Hey, what's so funny?" She asked with a kind, clueless smile.

He immediately stopped laughing and straightened himself. "Just remembering somethin' funny that my best friend told me."

"They must be a great friend," Jessie commented.

"They are," Rick agreed, staring off into space. "Anyways, I'm Rick."

She held out her hand. "Jessie."

:

Michonne kept looking at her phone, hoping for a text from Rick or something, but what she got was silence. She wondered if she was too forward, if she said the wrong thing, if she'd scared him off, or worse, if he was actually enjoying himself with Beige Queen. She hoped that it was none of them, though. She just wanted to hear from him again, and felt silly that after one night with him, she was acting like a lovesick fool.

She heard a knock at the door, and straightened her teal sleeveless jumper, and white cardigan. She'd decided to go simple tonight with no jewellery, even though Andrea had insisted on it, and a red lip with light make up. On the other side of the door was a very tall white man with an eye patch and a creepy smile.

"You're Michonne Williams, right?" He questioned her. "Andrea told me that we're going out together."

"We're just going to a work party," Michonne said briskly, grabbing her purse and pushing past him.

"No need to be frosty," the man - Phillip - smiled.

Michonne just sighed, but just then her phone buzzed and she pulled it out. It was a picture of Rick pouting at his food. She giggled.

 _ **You're a dork.**_

 _ **You love it.**_

 _ **I do, but you're still a dork**_.

Michonne stared at her phone, her body filling up with warmth. So much warmth that she nearly forgot her date standing there next to her. But just for a second, she'd had their bond back and it was everything.

:

 _Last night_

 _Michonne climbed up onto the table feeling inhibited and a little more than drunk. Her body was warm and light, and the air almost seemed to caress her breasts, which were nearly popping out of her dress at this point. Her skin was becoming sweaty, and glistened in the low light of the now empty kitchen._

 _By this point, Rick had done several shots off of her. In the company of their friends, it was pretty chaste; a shot off of the arm, or elbow, but after Glenn had left with the rest of their crew to play beer pong, Rick and Michonne were left to their own devices, which made things escalate even more._

 _Out of the corner of her eye, she heard Rick, who stood at the corner of the room, pouring a tequila into a shot glass next to him. She moved to get up, but stopped when she noted her friend's dark eyes._

 _"No," he walked over to her, and leaned over to whisper into her ear. "I want to lick it off of you."_

 _Michonne got up with a start. "What?"_

 _But Rick, unperturbed and unphased, simply pushed her back down onto the table that she laid on and repeated himself. "I want to lick it off of you," he began. "We are doing body shots, right?"_

 _"Right," Michonne hastily agreed, uncertain of where exactly this was going._

 _She found herself laying back down on the table the cool liquid of the shot spilled in between her breasts. Her heart began to beat exceptionally fast as she felt his eyes watching her, feasting upon her._

 _And then he leaned down, his tongue descending between the valley of her perky breasts, and licked her languidly. Immediately, she felt her nipples grow hard at his minstrations, and the dampness settle in between her legs. She was nearly throbbing._

 _He continued to lick as she watched his lips nibble, suck, and worship her skin. And then, just like that, it was over._

 _"Did you like that?" He asked, his voice deeper now, huskier._

 _Not knowing how to respond, she nodded and stared at him in confusion. What was that? She wondered to herself. Why is he acting so strange tonight?_

 _"Guys!" Glenn busted through the door, effectively interrupting whatever had just happened. "We need two more players on our team!"_

 _With one final look, the two confused friends got up, and carried on, pretending the moment never happened. But it was only the beginning._


	3. Chapter 3

**Author note: Hello, all! This chapter is A LOT, and also a bit sad as it delves a little further into Michonne's past. But, hopefully it's not too much.**

 **As always, I'm appreciative of the reviews and some of them had me rolling, lol. Thank you for the laughs!**

 **Chapter Three: Dates Gone Awry**

"I have two boys," Jessie droned on, pulling out her wallet to show Rick a small picture of two young boys. The older one, Rick noted, scowled at the camera, and the younger one looked like he was about to projectile vomit. "Ron and Sam."

"Oh," Rick said, a tense smile on his face. He faked interest in the photograph. "How old are they?"

"Ron is nearly twelve now, and so temperamental. You know how teens are," Jessie let out a deep sigh, as if she were holding back something. "Sam is only seven now."

"That must be a lot to deal with," Rick continued on.

His voice was flat, and monotone as he continued to feign interest in the blonde woman in front of him. He couldn't fucking understand himself though; she was a beautiful woman, he thought. She wore her dark Auburn hair in a loose bun, and had very overdone makeup, and a corset dress that pushed her breasts up. Her skin was creamy, she smelled nice, but she was so incredibly boring. Or maybe it was just that his mind was on something - someone else.

He pulled out his phone, and checked it for the fifth time in the last half hour. They'd been texting back and forth throughout the whole date. Mostly when Jessie went into one of her long tangents about her life, or her job, or her ex husband, or her owls.

"Do you have any kids?" Jessie's overly eager voice broke through his reverie.

"Just one. His name is Carl," Rick said vaguely.

"How old is Carl?" She questioned.

Rick sighed. For some reason, he just wasn't in the mood to talk about this right now. "Carl is gonna be eleven next month."

"Oh," she responded.

"Yeah," Rick replied.

And then there it was.

 _Silence._

 _Again._ Again there was the awkwardness, the struggle to speak to another person, the lack of _ease_ to carry on. His thoughts immediately went to Michonne again, and how easy it was to speak to her, to communicate his ideas, to engage her. But with Jessie, it was akin to a dental surgery without sedation: painful, prolonged, and perturbing. He tried, he really did, but it just wasn't working.

Finally, the waiter appeared with their food, and he dug in, nearly desperate for her to text him again.

Phillip was a fucking weirdo, Michonne had gathered from their nearly forty five minutes together. And who walks around with an eye patch like that? She still didn't know exactly how Shane and Rick knew this guy, as she hadn't seen Andrea at this work party yet. She assumed that those two hornballs were off screwing their brains out while she entertained this man, but she decided to suck it up and at least try on this date for their sake.

"Are you liking the party?" She forced out.

Phillip turned, and smirked at her, staring intently at her face. He nodded and laughed at nothing in particular. "I love it. Reminds me of college..."

Michonne quirked her eyebrows up curiously. "College? Andrea told me that you went with Shane and Rick. That you guys were friends..."

"Friends is a stretch," Phillip laughed, almost bitterly. "We knew of each other."

"Oh, _really_?" Michonne asked.

She was way too curious about their history, and wondered just how much Andrea actually knew about this guy. But, that was a habit of Andrea's; to be too trusting, to not do her research on people that she befriended, but she couldn't blame her. She'd met Andrea in her senior year of college at a party. She came dressed like something out of House Bunny and introduced Michonne to her late husband Mike Wallace. They'd hit it off almost immediately, getting married the following year, and eventually having their son Andre. The marriage was nice, almost too nice she thought, but she cherished it and Andrea for bringing them into her life.

She shook her head, blocking those thoughts out as she turned to Phillip, who was on his fifth drink.

"Yeah, Rick and Shane were the golden boys, and I was just one of the boys, but that's water under the bridge, right?" He slurred, and then sat down.

Michonne wondered what exactly this guy had against Rick, if she should ask him about it, but she didn't exactly know how to broach that subject. She was still trying to discern how to speak to Rick normally, how to not constantly think about how good it'd be to sleep with him again, just once. But as always, like a child with a monster under their bed, she tucked into the covers and pretended it wasn't just beneath her toes, trying to bite.

Sometime later, Andrea and Shane found the pair of them sitting in the corner of the party. Phillip was pretty wasted by this point, and Michonne was annoyed and creeped out. She still hadn't quite figured out how he knew her friends, but she had a weird feeling about him. A _bad_ feeling.

"Hey, y'all," Shane said casually. "Phil," he nodded at the man in an almost tense manner.

"Shane," Phillip responded. "How are you these days?"

"Better," Shane responded, curt and clipped.

At this point Andrea noticed the icy tension in the room, and flicked her platinum blonde hair over her shoulders and smiled a gracious smile. "Shane said that you guys went to college together..."

"We did," Phillip said, a tight smile on his face. "Knew you and Rick _real_ well. Rick was such a boy scout. Always doing the right thing and inserting himself into everyone's business. But I bet that he's not really like that at all. He seemed like a loser."

"Rick does that because he cares so much about everyone. I'm sure you didn't when know him that well. I knew Rick back then, and he helped me and-" Michonne felt herself grow more and more heated. "You know what, I'm leaving."

" _Meesh_ , come on. You don't have to leave over-"

Michonne swiftly cut her off. "I do," she told her, and then turned to face Phillip. "Lose my number."

"Meesh - Michonne!" Andrea yelled after her, but Shane stopped her.

"Let her go," he said, almost in an understanding tone.

And with that, Michonne stormed out of the work party, not even throwing back so much as a glance in his direction, and then she stood on the curb.

 _What now?_ She thought. She pulled out her cell phone then, texting the first person that she could think of.  
 _ **  
Hey, Rick? The date didn't go so well and I need a ride home. If you can't then that's fine. I'll call a cab.**_

"...and that's when I made my eighteenth owl sculpture!" Jessie said, eagerly as Rick continued to smile and nod. But he was actually very bored, and a little perturbed by her fascination with owls.

"Eighteen? Wow...that's um, that's dedication," Rick nodded, and smiled, once again.

He was trying to be polite. He was really, really trying but it was hard. He kept zoning out on the poor girl, and thinking about Michonne. She still hadn't texted him, and he had to wonder what she was doing. What if her date was really handsome and really funny and she wanted to go on another date with him? What if her date was weird, and tried to kill her? What if she had sex with this guy? What if she kissed him? Rick knew that he couldn't say anything about it because he wasn't her boyfriend. He didn't own her, but still. It plagued him.

And then that's when it happened. His phone buzzed on the table, and Rick picked it up, reading the nearly desperate message she sent him.

 _ **On my way. Where are you?**_  
 _ **  
The building where I work in Atlanta.**_

Don't move. I'm coming for you.

 _ **Okay.**_

He texted back and then turned to his date with an almost apologetic smile on his face.

"What happened?" She questioned him.

"My friend has an emergency," he answered vaguely, reaching into his pocket to pull out a wad of bills. "This should take care of dinner, and even dessert if you want. I've gotta go."

Jessie stood up, and for the first time that night, she seemed distressed. "You're leaving _now_?"

Rick shrugged, then nodded. "Yeah, it's urgent."

She sat back down, and then frowned a bit, not saying anything else as Rick bolted out of the restaurant without so much as a backwards glance.

Rick sped down the Atlanta freeway, his thoughts racing about Michonne's messages to him. They were vague, yet succinct. Apart of him felt relief that the date had gone bad, and she'd immediately contacted him to pick her up. But, the other part of him began to worry. What did the guy do that triggered such a strong reaction? Had he hurt her? Had he been rude to her?

Memories flashed in his mind of the Michonne of a few years ago, the person that she'd been after she lost her son Andre. He remembers her beautiful face crumpled in sadness and numbness and pain, and he'd tried to do everything in his power to protect her, and help her through it. He remembers how much Lori hated it when she'd moved her into their home, how she'd threatened divorce time and time again _. 'You're choosing this woman over your family,'_ she'd constantly tell him, but Michonne was his family too.

His chest felt tight, his skin felt tingly and sweaty as he turned off the exit and approached her office building in downtown Atlanta. When he finally got there, Michonne was pacing in front of the building, her face contorted into a scowl. Rick immediately came to a stop in front of her, unbuckled his belt, and nearly tripped as he ran over to her. She looked beautiful, he noted. That deep red lipstick making her lips look plump, full, and so, so kissable. He shook his head at the thought, he had to focus.

"What happened?" He breathed out.

She sighed a bit, and then rolled her eyes. "My date - Phillip - he was such a fucking weirdo. I swear. I don't know why Andrea thought it would be a good idea for us to date."

"Well, Shane said that he was a friend of ours, right?" Rick questioned her, curious as to what happened and who exactly this "weirdo" was.

Michonne adjusted her dress, and for a second, Rick's eyes were drawn to it, like a magnet to metal, but he refrained himself from touching that silky sliver of skin.

"He said his name was Phillip," Michonne told him.

Rick tensed, tilted his head, and squinted his eyes at the familiar name. He knew him. "Phillip Blake?"

"I don't know his last name, but I didn't like how he talked about you," Michonne frowned, her breathing had finally returned to normal. "The only person who gets to be mean to you is me," she smirked at him.

He chuckled. "Of course."

A silence fell upon them then, as the chill night air blew a harsh gust of wind their way. He breathed out, knowing that the man that she'd gone out on a date with last night was basically his first "perp." He knew Phillip Blake very well, and he definitely wasn't a friend, if you could call turning someone in for plagiarism and corruption a plague.

"So," she said, disrupting the long silence and his thoughts. "How was Beige Queen?"

"About as boring as you suspect she was. She spent about twenty minutes talking about owl sculptures," he admitted.

Michonne chuckled, the sound like honey to his eyes, and then shook her pretty head. "Owls? Why owls?"

"I stopped listening at 'wisdom birds,'" Rick admitted once more, which only made Michonne laugh harder.

After their laughter stopped, and faded, silence filled the air again, which caused them both to stare at one another, overcome with emotion and the magnetic pull between them. Beyond both of their control, they began to lean in. Rick's hands immediately found her waist, and pulled her flush against him, and she found his curls. Dark brown eyes met light electric blue eyes, and a fire crackled and purred between them like a heady, overpowering storm.

"We should probably talk about what happened," Rick breathed out. "What's happenin'."

Michonne opened her mouth to speak, intent on telling him everything. She wanted to explain her position, or at least provide him insight on why she walked away that night, but before she could get the words out, her date emerged from the building. And when he eyed Rick, a sinister smirk fell upon his lips.

"Well, well, well," he cackled. "If it isn't Michonne and my best buddy Officer Rick Grimes."

Phillip, the belligerent, weird, kind of off, and maybe evil man nursed a drink in his hands. Rick stood in front of Michonne, a protective arm placed on front of her middle.

"Deputy Sheriff Grimes," Rick corrected him.

"Still a fucking boy scout, I see," he smirked, and downed the rest of his drink.

"And you're still the town drunk, I see," Rick quipped with a smirk of his own, but his face quickly grew menacing as he stepped away from Michonne and walked over to the deranged Phillip. He took his drink and threw it to the ground, and then stepped in closer. "We've never been friends. Not you and I. Not you and Shane," he continued on, his voice low. "I don't _ever_ want to see you around Michonne again."

Phillip pulled himself away, and shook his head, nodding at Rick. And something told the both of them that it wouldn't be the last time that they'd have to deal with him, but at least he was gone now.

After explaining what happened to a confounded and confused Andrea, Rick offered to take Michonne home once again. This time, though, Rick turned up the music and Michonne's ears perked up at the sound of Billy Joel's 'Goodnight My Angel' filling the speakers, and Michonne felt herself well up. It was the song that she'd chosen for Andre's funeral.

 _Goodnight, my angel_  
 _Now it's time to sleep_  
 _And still so many things I want to say_  
 _Remember all the songs you sang for me_

"I know that's why," he said. "I was thinkin' it on the way here."

"Why what?" She questioned him, trying to will away the unshed tears in her eyes.

"That you need some time," he told her. "You're not ready yet, because you haven't healed from Andre. And I don't-I don't want this to be somethin' you're not ready for."

Michonne gulped, breathing in and out, her entire body filling up with something akin to pure warmth. She had never experienced this feeling before, the feeling of being known inside out by another person. She felt like he'd been given the blueprint to her soul.

She felt her voice grow raspy. "That's why. It's so hard to trust anyone when your baby is taken from you by a person whose only explanation is that they felt like it."

Rick reached out, and wrapped his hand around hers. "I'm willing to wait until you're ready."

 _When we went sailing on an emerald bay_  
 _And like a boat out on the ocean_  
 _I'm rocking you to sleep_  
 _The water's dark_  
 _And deep inside this ancient heart_  
 _You'll always be a part of me_

She just nodded as the song faded out, laying her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes.

:

 _Last night_

 _Michonne wiped the beer that she'd just drowned off the sides of her lips, and then licked them. For some reason, Glenn had decided to put them on opposing teams, which caused an all out war between the pair of friends._

 _This sort of thing had always happened whenever sports were involved; if they played ping pong then Rick and Michonne could go at it for hours until eventually, they'd call a draw. If they played basketball, then Michonne would nearly push the ball out of his hands, or push her ass into him, which he considered cheating._

 _Now, here there were, on their third pong toss, and Rick was in the lead. Michonne shook her head, and tried to focus, but his lips were so pink and pouty, his face was so flushed. She started to ponder what they'd feel like on more parts of her body than just the outer parts of her breasts, and then it happened, she began to throb, to ache for him._

 _"You gonna sit there starin' into space? I'm waiting," Rick taunted her with a smirk._

 _"Don't get cocky, Officer. I've got this one," she told him, and then she began to focus on her target: that damn red plastic cup._

 _She leaned forward on the table, her entire body feeling hot, like the inside of a furnace in the depths of a great ship because of those eyes, those crystal clear eyes that seared through her entire body. On the other side of the table he stood: cocky, confident, and content. The beer and shots that they'd been drinking were clearly taking its affect on him._

 _"Do you?" He challenged her, placing his hands on his hips and leaning in more. She swore that she saw those eyes of his dip downward towards her chest, and that pink tongue of his dart out to wet his lips. Fuck, she thought to herself. "Show me what you're made of."_

 _He nearly purred out at her, forgetting the crowd of people gathered on each side of the table. Right now, in this moment, it was just them. No one else mattered or existed to them._

 _"I'll show you alright," she winked and lifted herself off of the table._

 _"Would y'all stop flirting and play the damn game? If I wanted to watch someone fuck then I would've stayed home and watched porn!" Sasha's boyfriend Abraham yelled from behind Rick._

 _The tall, burly redhead rolled his eyes and drew himself closer to Sasha who just watched with a knowing grin on her face. Michonne sighed once more, and shook her head. She'd never acted like this before. She'd never wanted anyone this desperately._

 _She'd never felt so wanted. Hell, she'd totally forgotten about poor Abraham, or any of their friends in fact. All she saw was Rick. She steeled herself though, deciding to just finish up this game and then she'd talk to Rick about this, whatever this was._

 _"Shit," Rick said from across the table. It caused Michonne's head to jolt up, and her dark eyes to land upon him. "We ran out of beer."_

 _His eyes locked knowingly on Michonne's, and it was as if all of those years of friendship came in handy for reading his eyes. 'Let's go talk,' they said. 'I don't understand what I'm doing, but please just come with me,' they urge and she complied._

 _"Rick and I can go get some more. Where do you keep the beer, Mags?" Michonne turned to face her pregnant friend, who sat watching the game unfold on the couch._

 _"It's down in the basement," Maggie told them. "You've gotta go through the hallway and around the house to get down under there," she explained, handing the pair her keys. "We'll just do something else while y'all go get it."_

 _The way Maggie said it had Michonne sweating something fierce. Her emerald eyes were almost pleading with Michonne; as if she knew, knew that they weren't going down to the basement to get more beer. And she didn't know exactly what they'd be doing, but she was sure that it wasn't that._

 _Rick walked over, that confident bow-legged stride mesmerized her momentarily, as she worked her way down from his greying cowboy boots, to his hard calfs, to his strong thighs, to his solid torso, and finally that beautiful face. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. "Come on," he whispered._

 _His hands found the small of her back as he guided her out of the living room, and outside towards the basement._


	4. Chapter 4

**Author Note: Once again, thank you all for all of the follows, faves, and reviews. I've really appreciated each and every one of them. Here's the next installment. Enjoy.**

The next day, Michonne decided to confront Andrea about the horrendous date that she'd gone on. Instead of going clubbing after work, they'd wound up at a work party, and she'd wound up with a weirdo. But what unsettled her the most was his connection to Rick, and what that could possibly mean going forward. She just wanted to protect him at all costs, and would go against anyone to do that, even Andrea.

Her caseload lately was intense, as several more high profile cases had gone through less clearance lately. Andrea, one of her A.D.A.'s was responsible for handling her cases in a particular area, but she'd been handling them with less grace lately, and calling out frequently.

Michonne dreaded having this conversation with her friend, but she had to have it.

"Andrea," Michonne called out to her friend, who sat in her office. "Where's the subpoena for the Robinson case? I've got to get it out to the Sheriff's Department in King County before noon..."

"I'm sorry, I haven't even requested it yet," Andrea sighed audibly. "I was supposed to, but I was talking with someone."

Michonne narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "With _who_?"

"Phillip," she admitted. "He was really upset at you just ditching him like that last night."

"After he insulted Rick," Michonne balked at her friend. "That guy is shady, and weird. Does Shane know that you're talking to him?"

"God, no! And it's nothing like that, Meesh,"Andrea told her. "Anyways, how about you go to King County and explain the situation to them?"

"Why should I have to do that when it's your-you know what, I will," Michonne sighed. She already had enough cases, community sentences, and files on her desk, but she loved Andrea. She'd do it for her. "But please, Andrea, don't talk to him anymore."

"Wow," Andrea muttered with a wry chuckle.

Confused, Michonne whipped around to face her friend. "What?"

"You really don't see it, do you?"

Andrea didn't say anything, analysing her close friend like a shark circling it's prey. In all of their years of friendship, she'd observed Michonne and Rick circle around each other, that constant intensity festering but never turning into anything. A huge part of her was envious of it, because she knew that what she had with Shane would never compare to their bond. The soul mate type of bond, and it frustrated her beyond comprehension that Michonne refused to see it.

"See what?"

"Nothing, nevermind," Andrea said, facing her papers once more.

:

"Captain Monroe," Rick addressed his boss sternly. "We need the subpoena for the Robinson's case in order to check the property of one of our suspects. We have a serial killer out there, and this is our first - maybe only lead."

"I requested it at the D.A.'s office," Captain Monroe explained. "The D.A. supposed to inform me of it at-"

Captain Monroe was cut off by the sound of the door opening, and in all of her sophisticated glory, Michonne appeared with various pieces of paper in her freshly manicured hands. Rick stood stupefied by her, unable to process seeing her after their conversation in the car last night. They'd talked for a long while about her son Andre, and then they just sat together. She'd kissed him on his cheek, and smiled at him, thanking him for always being there for her when she needed her.

His eyes roved her, from the bottom of her suede black pumps, to her tight striped pencil skirt, to her white button down, that was unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of cleavage. Her dreads were pulled up into a ponytail, and her makeup was minimal. She looked distractingly beautiful, he thought.

"You can stop drooling over our District Attorney, Deputy Grimes," Captain Monroe teased him. He was her favorite and most trusted Deputy. She then turned to Michonne. "How'd you even manage to get the subpoena?"

"Had to bribe a few people, make a few phone calls, but...," Michonne trailed off.

Captain Monroe grinned, her face lighting up at the young woman. In all of her years she'd never encountered a District Attorney who was so personable, who constantly went out of her way to get things through for each department and for each case.

"You're magic, that's what you are. Isn't she?" He turned to ask her Deputy, the man still staring at her like some lovesick puppy dog. "Anyways, I'll put this through, you both can go."

:

Rick walked through the Sheriff's Department with Michonne by his side. He was still trying to process her being in town even though he knew that she would probably show up eventually to work a case or make sure that there was proper sentencing, but he hadn't expected it to be so soon.

"You feelin' better today?" His question coming out of his mouth in an almost unsure, timid way. "After last night, I just..."

"I'm okay, I, um," she stuttered, turning to face him. "I wanted to see you."

Rick felt his heart speed up, and worried that if his heart kept speeding up like this, then eventually he'd suffer cardiac arrest.

"Why? What's up?"

She stopped, and stared at him. If she was being honest with herself, she wanted to see him all the time these days, even though she wasn't supposed to want to so much. In her heart, she just had to, but in her brain, she knew that she'd wind up in bed with him again eventually. But then she thought about Rick's son Carl, and how work as well as complications with Rick had prevented her from truly seeing him. She missed that young man, and his affinity for comic books and all things gore.

"I haven't seen Carl in awhile...," she trailed off.

"He's been askin' to see you, but Lori has been on my case about it," Rick suddenly admitted. "She's still mad about the divorce, I guess."

"It's been years, though," Michonne told him, but she'd suspected that Lori had never quite gotten over their friendship. "I still want to see him. I miss that kid."

Rick smiled, he couldn't help but feel warmth at the bond that she shared with his son. "Alright, we can meet up and surprise him after he gets outta school."

Michonne beamed up at him, excitement coursing through her being at the thought of seeing her favorite boy again. Every time she saw him, it took her back to Andre, and how they'd play together, how they were only a few years apart, how she felt like she had two sons versus one. Overcome with emotion, Michonne threw her arms around Rick, and hugged him tightly, her fingers trailing against the nape of his neck, her shapely body pressed full against him.

"Thank you," she whispered before pulling away, unaware of the affect that she was having on him.

:

 _ **'12 unanswered calls, 5 messages: Jessie Anderson'**_

Rick laughed as he checked his phone once more. He had to admit that this Jessie girl was a persistent one, and if she weren't so nice, yet boring, he would have blocked her number by now. But he'd honestly never even thought about dating her or anyone else again if it meant that he could have Michonne. He'd meant his promise. Every word.

Michonne's eyes locked on his phone, and then at him as they sat in the line awaiting Carl's departure from school. A deep, petty party of her felt smug satisfaction at the fact that he'd effectively swerved Beige Queen, but the other part still felt conflicted about all of this. When she'd hugged him, she'd wanted to throttle him right then and there, but she just couldn't. She was fighting this.

"So, I take it she's not happy with you ditching her like that?"

"Nah, and I honestly don't care," Rick admitted bluntly.

"You're cold as ice, Officer Friendly," Michonne teased as she giggled.

But secretly, in the deep recesses of her stomach, she was deeply relieved that he was not interested in this woman like that. She even cheered internally at the callousness that he'd shown her, but chided herself. She thought it unfair to Rick that she still hasn't figured out what she wanted from him, but also didn't want him to find anyone else.

"Not that cold, I'm sure," he winked at her, and turned to face Carl's school once more.

When his eyes were on the school, and not on her, she dropped in her seat a bit at the small, flirtatious act.

:

It took awhile, but Carl was finally let out of school, and when he spotted Michonne riding shotgun in the car, his face lit up and he ran even faster. His teacher turned, attempting to gather him up, but he ran past the slightly irritated older woman and towards their car. Rick unlocked the door, and awaited the eager onslaught.

"Ms. Michonne, you're really here!" He nearly yelled. "What were you doing!?"

Michonne turned around, and smiled warmly at the young boy who looked so much like his father. Those light blue eyes, and that infectious smile. "I've been very busy. I have a pretty important job, you know."

"But you've seen my dad," Carl pointed out.

Rick and Michonne exchanged a knowing glance, wondering when the kid had gotten so perceptive.

"Yes, but your father and I have adult related things to do," Michonne said, and then internally chiding herself at how suggestive those words must have sounded to the prepubescent boy.

"Adult things like what?" Carl inquired curiously, sliding up closer to them as Rick started the car and headed towards their home. "Kissing?"

Rick nearly crashed the car at Carl's words, and Michonne flushed, her cheeks warming up at the suggestion. "What? Of course not!" Michonne insisted. "Your father and I are just friends!"

Carl narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her high pitched overly defensive reply, and turned to his father, whose face was flushed a deep red.

"Who told you about kissing?"

"Enid, my science partner did!" He told his father eagerly.

Rick shook his head at Carl, and then turned to face Michonne once more. He couldn't help the large grin that formed on his face when he saw how nervous she became over such an innocuous comment. He noted how her eyes darted back and forth, her hands clenched tightly in her lap, and her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips.

He reached over, and tapped her wrist with his finger. Immediately, she turned to face him, her body calming down at his comforting touch.

:

Nearly half an hour later, they arrived at the Grimes' home in the suburbs of King County. The simple white house was homey and had a small town Southern appeal to it that made it feel cozy and warm. Michonne didn't know why she felt so happy to see a house, but she pushed down those feelings when she unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of the car.

Rick and Carl joined her, the three of them walking up to the bright red door, heading inside. Once inside, the enthusiastic Carl from earlier returned, as he pulled Michonne out into the living room so that he could school her on the latest comic that he'd read.

"I finally finished the newest issue!" He told her eagerly, both of them settling into the sofa in the living room. "Do you think that Rider died in the zombie herd?"

"I don't think so. I bet Nefarious Black saves him," Michonne shrugged as the younger boy adamantly shook his head.

"But Nefarious Black escaped and betrayed Rider!"

"I know that, but I guess they're trying to redeem him," Michonne explained simply, reaching down to grab her purse. Inside was the latest issue of The Walking Dead comics. Carl squealed, snatching the comic from Michonne with a face splitting smile. "I worked a case for the publisher, so I get them early."

Carl hugged her tightly. "I missed you so much, Ms. Michonne. Can I go up to my room and read this?"

"Yeah, sure. But I get to read it when you're done, alright?" She said with a wink.

Carl eagerly nodded, and sped off to his room, not to be seen for several hours.

:

Eventually, Rick came over the join Michonne. She assumed that he showered from how fresh he smelled and his wet curls falling into his face. And in that moment, she couldn't stand him. He was so cute and irresistible in that moment; those eyes, those curls, that see through white t-shirt. He was Lucifer, the dark angel of the underworld, tempting her into damnation, but she loved every minute of it.

"I'd better go," Michonne said, going to retrieve her bag from the ground, but Rick's hand reached over and stopped her.

"I want you to stay," Rick blurted out, her eyes popped open a bit at his words. "For Carl, I mean. I want you to stay for Carl."

It was as he knew that Carl was a huge weak spot for her, and how she couldn't say no to that kid. Ever. So she stayed. And leaned back into the couch, willing herself to be comfortable.

"We should talk. I mean really talk about that night," Rick finally told her. "We can't just go back to bein' like before if we don't at least sort it out."

Michonne breathed in, and then out. In and then out. She knew that this was coming, and they just hadn't had the time to address it yet. Andrea'a words from earlier in the day came to mind.  
 _'You really don't see it, do you?'_ She'd said, and Michonne had struggled to understand the meaning behind those words as it related to Rick, but now she'd started to realize them. Between their night together, the dates, and Andre, the two of them had ceased to have a real conversation about what was going on with them, and what they wanted from each other going forward.

"I liked it. I liked it too much," Rick started, when Michonne didn't say anything. "And I told you that I'd forget about it if you left, but I haven't been able to. I also told you that I'd take you in any way that I could, and I meant that."

"I know. I just don't-I can't be in a relationship right now," she admitted quietly.

Turning to face him, she left herself vulnerable and exposed for the first time. A stray tear fell down her cheek as she thought about what she'd lost.

"I look at you, and you're so good," she goes on. "You make me feel good."

Rick leaned closer to her, his hand brushing against her cheek, his breath fanning against her face. "It doesn't have to mean anything," he whispered.

And then his lips were on hers, hard and insistent. But as quickly as his lips were on hers, she pushed him away, breathing heavily. Her body betrayed her, because it wanted to go back and fuck him until she couldn't breathe it stand or think anymore, but she simply stood there staring at him. Her emotions were all over the place, but his were clear as day.

"I'm sorry. That wasn't-I usually don't do stuff like that," He told her, rubbing his face with his open palms.

She sat next to him on the couch, and then turned to face him. "I'm sorry for being all over the place. It's just," she touched a finger to her lips. "I'm-I don't know, confused."

"I understand," Rick nodded solemnly. "You're still going to stay a little while, right?"

The way that his voice cracked a bit haunted her. She hated her natural loner spirit, and her even more jagged heart, which was cut into hard edges and couldn't be immediately repaired. She hated those uncertainty of his words, the trepidation in which he said them.

"Just a little while," she told him, settling into his side.

:

 _Last night_

 _The hallway was dark, vast, and endless; or it seemed that way to Michonne when she felt Rick's strong hand drift up and down along the small of her back. He'd push his hand down along the bare skin of her upper back, which was bare, and drew goosebumps along her skin. She shuddered, and turned around to face him, and there he was, only an inch away from her face._

 _He drew his strong arms around her, and pushed her body up against the wall. And then there it was again: the confusion. She wasn't sure what was happening tonight, or how it had escalated so fast. She just knew that her body felt like the end piece of a hot wire, electric and on fire at the same time. Those tiny atoms and electrons swirling together, yet ripping apart to create something beautiful, something more. That was her._

 _"Rick," she breathed out, her eyes falling to his soft lips. "What are you doing?"_

 _He exhaled, his warm breath fanning against her face. The sweet, tangy smell inducing her even further. "I've wanted you for a long time, Michonne..."_

 _"What?" She questioned him, confused as to where this was going._

 _He pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted, staring up at the darkness of the ceiling. He didn't know how to explain himself, he didn't know how to tell her that he'd wanted her since they were in college, so he didn't. Instead, he kissed her. His lips rough against hers at first, mostly teeth knashing against the softness of her full lips. He bit, and sucked until her lips nearly felt raw and tingling, and then he slipped his tongue out, licking the outside of each lip. She breathed out, as her hand reached up into his soft curls, and gripped there. Hard._

 _Rick responded with a deep, guttural moan, one of his hands going downward to cup her ass. He parted her cheeks with his hand and pulled her leg upward, around his waist._

 _"We can stop this," he whispered, his husky drawl like honey in her ear. She felt his other hand wrap around her waist, to steady her._

 _She shook her head. She never wanted to stop this, whatever it was between them. "No," she whispered back. "There's a bedroom in one of these-"_

 _"The beer?" Rick questioned her, his lips on her neck now._

 _"You started this and now you want to be responsible?"_

 _Michonne couldn't help but giggle, but Rick just laughed. She was absolutely right, it was a bit ridiculous of him to even care about the beer, and anyways, they wouldn't even notice them being gone._

 _:_

 _Meanwhile, at the party, a bet was going on amongst friends._

 _"Maggie totally won this one!" Glenn sighed, as he pulled out fresh beer from underneath the counter. "Making them think that we were out of beer like that. There isn't even beer in the basement!"_

 _"They won't find that out, 'cause they're gonna fuck tonight!" Maggie yelled with glee._

 _"I can't believe you," Glenn shook his head. "Genius."_

 _:_

 _Rick had finally pulled down Michonne's halter to reveal her perky breasts to them, her dark nipples were nearly hard as a rock as they pointed up right at him. But Rick didn't want to kiss them right away, he didn't want to just fuck her tonight, knowing that it'd probably be the last time she'd let him. He wanted to worship her, make it so unbelievable that she'd never forget it._

 _Michonne stared up at him, her dark eyes were clouded with lust and she was dripping wet. She could feel herself throbbing for him once again, aching for him to make her feel full. But he was just staring at her body. It made her feel a bit self conscious, so she placed her arms over her bare breasts._

 _From his spot above her, Rick shook his head. "No," Rick told her. "I want to see you."_

 _His authoritative tone took her off guard as she moved to remove her arms from her breasts, and then she did something that she never thought she'd do, she tweaked her nipples right in front of him, which caused his pouty lips to fall open into an O. She kept tweaking, turning herself on even more. But, he reached out, and stopped her ministrations._

 _His removed her hand with his calloused hands, and then ran both open palms slowly over each breasts, over and over, just feeling her. And then he pulled her dress all the way down to reveal her bright red matching panties which were sopping wet at this point._

 _"What are you waiting for?" She ground out impatiently._

 _"I just want to feel you," he admitted, his eyes roving over her. "I've been working up to this for a long time."_

 _"How long?"_

 _He didn't say anything, instead choosing to wrap his wet mouth around her nipple and suck, bite, and lick with everything in him. His other hand caressed her stomach, waist, and finally slipped into her underwear._

 _"Long enough," he told her, slipping his finger inside of her_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author note: Hey, all! As always, thank you for taking the time to read, review, comment, and face my story. This one has some smut, so there's that!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter Five: The Disillusion of Meaning**

The following morning, Michonne awoke with a start, realizing her awkward positioning on Rick's couch. His arms around her, nearly suffocating her. She pushed his strong arm away from her, and stood in front of the couch. He looked so beautiful, so peaceful, she thought; but she decided to push those thoughts away when she looked upon his sleeping form. Her thoughts were a jumbled mass of feels that she wasn't quite comfortable accepting just yet, so she decided not to confront them.

But it was hard to deny the pull he had on her when she saw him now. His pink lips were puckered into a pout, his tired eyes closed and rested, his arms reaching out subconsciously for her as if he knew, even in sleep, that she wasn't right there next to him.

She stared at him for a moment longer, and then slipped on her shoes from the night prior, deciding to go say goodbye to Carl.

:

Upstairs, Carl lay in his bed with his _The Walking Dead_ comic covering his young face, his long hair fanning it. He looked so young and innocent laying there, unaffected by the world's tragedies, and it once again reminded her of Andre. She thought about him a little less now, but Carl was her connection to him. They'd been so close, best friends; she mourned that every day.

Unable to work up her nerve to awake him, she began walking out of his door, but her harsh heels clicked loudly against the hardwood floors, awakening the young boy.

He awoke with a start, flying upwards, his comic falling into his lap. Carl rubbed his eyes, then narrowed them at Michonne. "Hey, Ms. Michonne."

"Hey, Carl," she responded, walking towards the edge of his bed and sitting down. "I see you enjoyed the comic. You never came back down."

"I did! It was so, so good! I didn't expect Nefarious Black to apologize to Rider for killing his best friend. To me, that doesn't seem very realistic."

Carl said this with a slight smile on his face, a furrow to his brows, as if deeply pondering the information presented.

"It isn't very realistic, but there's a lesson to be learned about judging people, and moving beyond the loss of someone that you really love," she explained it to the young boy, who averted his eyes downward towards his Spider-Man comforter.

"I still miss Andre," Carl admitted.

Tears gleamed in Michonne's eyes at the confession. "Me too, Carl. Every day."

"It's really hard. He was my best friend, and I hate seeing you sad," Carl admitted. "Its why I asked you if you kissed dad."

Michonne was unable to speak as Carl unloaded on her, and it took her back to all those years ago, when Carl and Andre were inseparable. Two partners in crime, they were.

Michonne's chest tightened, as it did the first time he'd made that suggestion, and she weighed how to broach this topic with him. Right now, they _were_ friends, but she didn't know about the future. And the last thing that she wanted to do was confuse him.

"Carl, your father and I have a special relationship. We both love you very much," Michonne explained. "That won't change."

"You promise?"

His greyish eyes grew wide, his smile even wider.

"Of course."

And then she hugged him for a long while, finally feeling some semblance of peace, and hope. Maybe, just maybe this could work. But her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knocking on Carl's bedroom door. It was Rick, looking as dazzling as ever. His clothes from the night before were wrinkled to hell and back, and his curls were wild, but he seemed rested.

"Hey," He greeted her quietly.

"Hi," she responded back. "I was just making sure Carl woke up. But I've really got to get back to Atlanta."

Rick pouted a bit, but had known this was coming since their moment on the couch last night. He'd surmised that one day, maybe, she'd be ready for something more,but it wasn't going to be now. And so, they'd slipped into a natural rhythm, as if things were back to before. She'd shifted in his arms while he put on an old Tarantino movie, and the two of them spent most of the night quoting lines to each other, back and forth, until she'd fallen asleep in his arms.

"Alright," He conceded. "But let me walk you out, okay?"

She sighed, unable to resist his flirtatious smile. "Fine."

:

Rick walked Michonne to the door, his hand grazing the small of her toned back. She felt butterflies. Even the smallest things turned her on now, but she had to get back to work, back to her cases, back to Andrea, and back to covering developments on the Robinson case. As she turned back to face Rick, she saw him grinning down at her, a carefree smile on his face.

"You can't leave without doing the thing," He told her with a wink.

She was dumbfounded. "What _thing_?"

"We always used to quote the ending lines of Pulp Fiction to each other whenever we said goodbye," He said eagerly, randomly.

Michonne's face lit up as she thought once more of their shared love of Tarantino films. It had become a signature of theirs in college to quote it to each other, and they had fallen back into that pattern last night. But, Michonne couldn't help the warmth that spread across her body, or the giddy anticipation.

"I _think_ you oughta leave now," He told her, his southern twang becoming thicker, and more pronounced.

Michonne flushed, stepping out into the warm Georgia weather. "That's probably a good idea."

He simply smirked down at her once more, giving her one final wave before heading back inside.

:

A few hours later at King County's Sheriff Department, Captain Monroe poured over the documents that she'd obtained via subpoena. In them, were photos from a camera obtained at the scene of the crime, but they were unable to use as the camera belonged to someone with private Intel at the Federal level, but somehow, Michonne had gotten it.

Captain Monroe knew that the person - the serial killer - who went around murdering those based on the surname "Robinson" was a higher up official, or someone who had connections.

In the photos, she'd finally gotten her lead. A picture of a tall, white male whose jacket was adorned with small letters: P. BLAKE. Immediately, she called in two of her best deputies to look into it.

Once they arrived into her office, she placed the photo in front of them. The man, whoever he was, wore a long trench coat, and had short brown hair. He was quite tall,statuesque even, but the lettering was unmistakable, even if small. Those small black letters on the briefcase that he carried may be the biggest lead that they've had in months.

"Deputy Grimes, Deputy Walsh," Captain Monroe greeted them shortly. "This is our first big lead in the case, and I'd like for you two to do the heavy listing. Tell your deputies to investigate all with the first name P lastname Blake, and have it on my desk by Monday morning. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Captain," Rick and Shane said in unison.

Afterwards, Captain Monroe excused the both of them, and they headed out to grab lunch.

:

Rick and Shane sat in Michonne's favorite coffee shop, near the window. It was a pretty popular lunch spot in town, so the crowded, loud, bustling noise could overtake or mask any private conversation that anyone could have. After the waitress brought out their orders: cheeseburger for Rick, steak sandwich for Shane, the two of them decided to talk about the case.

"P. Blake seems familiar," Rick told Shane, trailing off.

"Only person we know with that name is-" Shane abruptly stopped talking, his eyes popping open. "Phillip."

"I don't know, that would be a mighty big coincidence," Rick responded. "He's weird, but-"

"He nearly killed your ass in college. Remember that? After you got him kicked out for plagiarizing and bribing the Dean," Shane reminded him warily. "And now the son of a bitch is out here killin' innocents. I should have never let Andrea set him up with Michonne…"

Shane sighed, and then rubbed his head wearily. He'd finally gotten a buzz cut, so he stroked his bald head back and forth, back and forth.

Their history with Phillip Blake went back to their years in college. At the time, Phillip was a political science major; his father was a Representative in Congress for their district, and so he carried himself much like a politician. He was swoon worthy, smooth talking, and managed to convince Rick and Shane that he was every bit of the good guy that he presented himself as.

At campus, some had even taken to calling him The Governor, but that had all come crashing down when Phillip told Rick of his cheating exploits and deals with higher up officials. Rick had responded by taking the news to the school board, who ultimately requested that Phillip leave.

"It ain't your fault, Shane," Rick told him. "But we need more proof that it's him before we make an arrest."

Reluctantly, Shane nodded his head. "Yeah, man. You're right," he told Rick, reaching for his drink and slurping, desperately wanting to change the subject. "About Michonne...have y'all figured it out yet?"

"We-we were together at that party," Rick admitted, with a nervous bow of his head. "But she wants to be friends."

"Holy shit!" Shane boisterously chuckled, spitting out his drink. "You got friend zoned!"

Rick averted his eyes away, towards the window. "Yeah, she's...I don't know. I'm-I want her. _Only_ her."

"I say you just fuck her," Shane shrugged, but Rick cringed at his crass words. "It ain't gotta be more right now, and you both clearly need it."

"I offered that, and she turned it down," Rick admitted glumly.

"Well, damn," Shane sighed, starting the car.

Damn indeed, Rick thought.

He'd always want her, that much was true. And he knew that he'd wait however long it took.

:

Once again, Michonne sat with one of her closest friends Sasha downing takeout - this time Thai - whilst lamenting over her not troubled. She'd spent most of the day thinking about how soft his lips felt upon her own, and how _good_ it felt to feel them again. But, as soon as it happened, she immediately went into self destruct mode.

Why does he want me like this, when I feel like this? Why does he continue to pursue me even though I continue to shoot him down? Why am I acting so fucking stupid? It was the constant swirl of doubt; a deep, dark pit that had consumed her every since the death of her son.

She never felt worth it; she never felt _worthy_.

"That night at the party," Michonne began, spooning a piece of meat into her mouth. "I slept with Rick."

Sasha smiled, unsurprised and then laughed boisterously at her friend. Sasha already knew that the two of them had hooked up that night at the party. Hell, she'd bet Glenn one hundred bucks that they would, and were going at it in that hallway, but ultimately Maggie had won, because her plan had succeeded in it. They'd just needed proof of it.

And so, Sasha moved to sit closer to her friend; her tan skin and tightly coiled curls pulled loose today, as she was finally grew from her duties at the Fire Station, but she still wore her work uniform, as she'd come straight from work to console her confused friend.

"Girl, I _know_ that. I've been waiting for days for you to give me the scoop!"

Michonne's eyes popped open, her face growing hot as Sasha giggled and pushed her shoulder playfully.

"How do you even you, I thought we-"

"You and Rick aren't slick in the least. Everyone knows, except Abe, who wants proof," Sasha shrugged. "About time that you two wised up. So, are you two a thing now? Had sex again?"

"Well...no, on both counts," Michonne admitted meekly, and then proceeded to stuff her face with meat.

"Why the hell not?" Sasha questioned her, arching her perfectly arched brows.

"I don't want to ruin our friendship…," Michonne trailed off. _I don't deserve him_ , she wanted to say.

"You can still be friends and sleep together!" Sasha insisted. "Get with it, girl. Trump is President. We're all going to die, so you better live it up while you can."

Michonne twiddled her fingers nervously, fidgeting as she took in Sasha's profound - for her - words. And then she thought back to what to what Rick had whispered just last night. _It doesn't have to mean anything_ ,he'd told her, his sultry, smooth drawl caressing her ear like a bird's feather on prickly skin. She couldn't deny herself anymore. She had to have him again.

"You're right," Michonne admitted, finally sure of her decision, and what she was going to do.

:

Later on that night, after Sasha left to go attend to her crazy boyfriend, Michonne found herself pacing her empty living room. She thought long and hard about their night together, and what it would mean going forward. For them, for Carl, for Andre, for Lori even, and she knew what she had to do.

She knew what she needed. Him. She needed him. Even physically, she wanted it again.

She reached for her cell phone, almost eagerly typing out the words.

 _ **Rick, come over.**_

 _ **Why?**_

 _ **I thought about what you said, and this doesn't have to mean anything.**_

 _ **Ok. I'll be over in 30.**_

Michonne set her phone on the nightstand, and sat on the couch. She couldn't wait.

:

 _Last night_

 _Rick's finger finally slipped inside her contracting walls, as his hands pinched and tweaked her hardened nipples. And, at this point, the pleasure of the moment overrode everything else in the moment. It was just the two of them in this dark room while the music and screaming went on somewhere in the distance._

 _Michonne's mouth popped open as Rick's thumb found her aching clit, which felt stuff from her overpowering arousal. She was so incredibly wet that her juices leaked down her legs, and made her panties incredibly went._

 _Rick could smell her arousal, which turned him on even more, as he curled his fingers upward, internally making it his mission to find her G-Spot, and make her come with his fingers alone. But it was getting harder for him to focus, as his hard cock throbbed within the confines of his jeans._

" _God, you're wet," he breathed out into her ear._

 _It was the first time that he'd spoken since slipping his fingers inside of her, and making this real, but he had to say it. Her walls were so warm, so wet, so fucking tight that he could barely concentrate on anything except her pleasure. And then he felt it, that spot within her that made her shudder. And she did._

 _He bent his fingers, tapping against it, as his thumb encircled her clit, but an animalistic urge took over, and he removed his fingers from within her. Michonne whimpered at the loss, as she was nearing her peak, and grabbed his hands to lick her own juices from his fingers._

" _You can't just stop," She told him, removing her own underwear and writhing wantonly underneath him._

" _I'm not stopping," Rick smirked, moving from the bed and getting down on his knees in front of it. He then moved to pull her legs to his face, placing one leg over each shoulder._

 _Michonne fell back onto the bed, as his tongue touched her sensitive clit and drove her to the brink of ecstasy._

 _:_

 _Rick had been tonguing, biting, pinching, and sucking at her core for the last twenty minutes. And she'd came twice from it, which seemed crazy, because she could barely come before during any type of sex. And her senses felt like they were going into overdrive, as she felt his finger enter her once more._

 _He hummed as he ate her out voraciously,learning every part of her. Her hands gripped his unruly curls._

 _And she felt it again, the tightening, the tingling, the hot, heady beating inside of her. She screamed, knowing that at this point, her friends could probably hear them, or they at least wondered where they'd gone._

" _Rick," She moaned out. "You're so-so-"_

 _And then it happened, she came. Again._

 _Her body shook, the light behind her eyes went white, she felt like she'd ascended into heaven as her body heaved._

 _:_

 _After she came, Rick got up from the ground, still dressed in his outfit from the party, but that simply wouldn't do. He was going to strip, and she was going to see that tight, lean body that he hid underneath his Sheriff Deputy work uniform._

 _The anticipation was killing her, and so she found herself getting up off of the bed, and wrapping her arms around his neck. She pulled him into an intense, searing kiss, which left him a bit speechless. But after moment of gathering his bearings , he went full on. Their lips met wildly, in a wet, slippery battle. His lips expanded, engulfing hers with his own as he pushed her body back onto the bed._

 _They spent the next five minutes just kissing, just learning each other's taste. His tongue wrapped around her tongue, his lips sucking her lips. They were so consumed by each other in that moment, that they couldn't even think about anything else._

 _When Rick finally did pull away, she undressed him, slowly. Her arms rubbed against his torso when she removed his shirt. Her hands caressed his legs when she removed his pants. Her hands moved slowly when she removed his boxer briefs, his cock hard and nearly purple, which made her nearly salivate._

 _It was her turn to push him down onto the bed, and climb astride him as though he was an unruly horse that she had to tame. And then she sank down onto his length, feeling inch upon tantalizing inch fill her up in ways in which she had never felt before._

 _She'd never felt this full in her whole life._

" _God," She finally got out once he'd filled her to the brink._

" _Yeah," he answered._

 _He moved his hands to grab at that gloriously ass of hers, and the animal inside of him wanted her to ride him fast in hard, but the man in him wanted her to set the pace. Looking up at her, it was like everything that he'd ever dreamed of. The love of his life was sitting on top of him, his dick inside of her, those perky breasts of hers free for him to touch and lick._

 _It was all too much._

 _And then she moved, her hips starting with long, sensuous rolls, which drove him crazy. He could feel the warmth of her, the wetness drizzling onto his thighs, the tightness squeezing him into obedience. He gripped her ass her, as her his finally began to move faster, and faster. Up and down. Up and down. Until a pretty fast rhythm had been established._

 _At this point, the only sounds that could be heard in the darkened room was heavy moaning, skin slapping against skin, and the occasional name or "fuck" being uttered. It was just that good. The type of good that made people unable to speak or breathe._

 _He bucked his hips; she rode him hard. Her breasts bouncing with each downward motion._

 _She wanted to fuck him forever._

 _And then it happened, her body tightened around him, stars and light shone behind her eyes._

" _I'm-," She breathed out, still riding him. "I'm - oh my fucking, God. Rick…"_

 _And then she came, just like that. But Rick wasn't done quite yet, as he flipped her over and pounded into her, his intense electric eyes peering into hers. His sweaty, flushed skin, and curls told the tale of his exertion, as well as her glistening dark skin. But he continued on, until his mouth popped open, and he released himself deep within her with deep grunts, sighs, and moans._

 _When they both came down from their high, neither said a word as they dressed._

" _Do you wanna go back to the party?" Rick asked her finally._

" _No," She told him. "Let's go to your place…"_

 _She eagerly grabbed his fingers, and pulled him towards the back exit._


	6. Chapter 6

**Author note: Hello! I'm sorry that this update took so long, but 7x12 happened, and so did life so I lost my motivation to write for awhile. Also, this chapter was quite difficult to do, and I probably rewrote it about five times before settling on this version, which I sincerely hope you enjoy.**

 **Also, I got a Guest review which expressed confusion over the timeline of the story and I don't mind correcting that. The italic flashbacks to "last night" are the first night that Rick and Michonne sleep together, everything not in italics happens** _ **after.**_ **The story begins the morning after that. In that day we have the coffee shop, etc. The following evening, Rick and Michonne go on a date with Jessie and Phillip respectively.**

 **The following day is when Michonne confronts Andrea, Rick and Michonne spend time with Carl, more info is revealed about the case, and Michonne spends the night with Rick and Carl. Which brings us to day four, which we are currently on. So it has only been about four days since they first slept together. I hope this helps you/any confused readers out there. Thanks for continuing to read and support my story.**

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Several Talks**

Andrea pulled out her phone, and sighed. It was Shane - she knew that she'd have to explain herself to him, but she didn't want to. She pressed ignore. She honestly hadn't expected the date to go that way, and to her knowledge, Phillip had always presented himself as knowledgeable, thorough, and gifted in speaking. Hell, she'd met him at an event in Atlanta for the state speakers and was drawn to his steely eyes and swagger.

He'd asked her all about herself, and what cases they were working on, and she'd revealed some information about one troubling case: The Robinson case. It was pretty typical; man killing several women, but atypical in that only their surnames were any indication of a crime. At first they suspected that it might be someone trying to wipe out a family, but the women varied in height, build, and race.

Andrea had been working her ass off lately, but she'd been distracted and fumbled on the case. Michonne, the higher official and seasoned lawyer, brokered the deals with any federal officials she knew. This caused Andrea to feel resentment towards her. She'd always been more capable, more respected, and more loved. Her son's death three years ago had caused her to spiral, but she'd bounced back thanks to Rick, who was the type of man girls dreamed of having. His marriage fell apart and yet Michonne was able to work. Andrea scoffed, her resentment was a secret; a slowly festering poison that lie dormant in the crevices of her shattered mind.

Maybe a part of her hoped that Phillip would not take to her so well; at least she'd know what it felt like to be second best. But no, Rick had fought for her honor, Shane nearly broke up with her for the mistake, and Michonne had saved the day by giving Captain Monroe key evidence against a perpetrator.

She gritted her teeth, her phone buzzing again, this time with an unknown number. She shrugged and answered. "Hello. Andrea Harrison here."

"Andrea," came the smooth, sinewy voice of Phillip.

She took a deep breath, finding herself smiling at his voice. He was undoubtedly charming, self assured, handsome even. Shane had finally told her about what had gone down, And she could scarcely believe that this was the same man who'd been kicked out of college. Maybe she and the girls just hadn't remembered him all that well.

"Phillip, hi! It's been a little bit since I last heard from you," she answered back conversationally.

"And for that I am deeply sorry," he apologized, his voice even. "Anyways, I know that you heard what happened with your friend..."

"Michonne? Yes, I heard," she replied.

The line went quiet for a little bit before Phillip spoke once more. "I want you to know that it was all a...misunderstanding of sorts. Your friend's pseudo boyfriend Rick Grimes attacked me, you see..."

"Rick attacked you!?" Andrea gasped.

That was unlike Rick, she noted, but then again she didn't know Rick all that well. She also knew that Michonne had been hostile towards Phillip from the start - unwilling to give him a chance. Andrea carefully considered his words for a second, mulling them over.

"Yes. Listen, Andrea, I'd like to meet with you to discuss this further," he told her. "Can you meet me in Atlanta at Joe's? We can discuss this _predicament_ over coffee."

Once again, Andrea thought it through like the lawyer that she was. She needed to know the truth, and coffee was harmless. Associates had coffee all the time. Shane didn't need to know. She'd talk this over and get to the bottom of everything, and then she would discuss whatever she found out with Michonne.

"Sure," she agreed, grabbing her purse.

* * *

Michonne sat on her couch waiting for Rick to arrive. It'd been about thirty minutes now, And she was still grappling with what she expected to happen. She was beginning to second guess herself - again - but she also believed that they did need to at least talk about whatever was going on. It'd been a few days now, and both of them had been ducking and leaning so hard away from that night that they were beginning to resemble Fat Joe circa 2004.

She didn't like being of sorts with Rick; a person who was like her lifeline of sorts. She needed to find out what this was, if this was something and then she needed to figure out what the hell to do with that information. If she could lay in bed with himself after he's fucked her brains out, and not feel anything.

After a long moment, she opened the door and there he stood, looking as handsome as ever. He wore his black spectacles over his nearly translucent blue eyes; his light blue Henley making them pop. His curls were loose and wet, most likely from the shower that he just took. His beard was partially grown now, white specs and grey speckled throughout.

"Hey," he said with a small smile, and then reached behind his back to reveal a bouquet of flowers. They were purple Hydrangea roses surrounded by simple white roses, fully in bloom. A simple white tie encircled the stem. "I, um, I brought you some flowers."

Her heart beat quickened in her chest, and her mouth suddenly felt extremely dry. She didn't know how to handle his romantic gesture when she'd invited him over to simply have sex with him, but she took them, and turned away from him, placed the roses on the table, And attempted to compose herself lest she had an emotional breakdown.

Hydrangea roses were her favorite flowers; they were _Andre's_ favorite flowers.

"They're not just for you, they're for him too," he told her after a moment of silence. He walked over and placed a soft hand on her shoulder.

She turned around, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, the emotion of the moment overwhelming her senses. She needed to feel him, and so she moved even closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulder and burying herself in him. He took that moment to press her body into his, the both of them finally breathing within the other's embrace.

"Thank you, Rick," she whispered.

The two of them stayed locked in a long embrace for several more minutes, until Rick pulled himself back to stare at her.

"Your message," he finally said. "I think that it's about time that we talk about what happened the other night."

She nodded at him, knowing that ultimately he was right. "Okay," she agreed.

* * *

After coming inside, Rick nervously shuffled around the couch; unsteady, And unsure of how to behave around her. He'd read her text at least fifteen times, imagining all the beautiful ways that their bodies would join once more, but the other part of him was filled with worry and dread. If he slept with her again, then he knew that he would feel it, he couldn't help that. But Michonne? She was always an enigma; a puzzle that he could never quite complete.

Michonne stared at his fumbling form, and knew that she had to do something, so she headed to the adjoining kitchen and pulled out two beers and placed them on the table in front of the couch. "Sit," she simply requested.

And like a man who would follow her anywhere, he sat closely on her other side. He picked up the beer, opened it, and took a long swig and then his face cringed.

"Heineken? _Really_?"

"Yeah, really, Rick. I didn't have time to get something heavier."

Rick smirked, feeling light at their back and forth. "I thought chilled _La Prohibition_ wine from Spain was more of your speed…"

"Only on the weekends," Michonne winked, taking a long sip, and then placing it back onto the table.

Once she did, an awkward silence enveloped the room. For the first time since Rick walked inside, the two of them actually thought about the reason that he'd actually come over to his place. She had basically propositioned him for sex, and he'd called Lori, had her pick up Carl, and then made the long drive to her apartment. Rick was pretty sure that he'd broken several laws, but he'd made it. The flowers? He'd already bought them earlier in the day, and planned on surprising her anyways.

Rick scooted closer, feeling the warmth radiating off of her body, but he did not dare touch her. He couldn't.

Meanwhile, Michonne struggled to look at Rick; the awkward moment going on longer than it should have. She had no fucking idea how to tell him what she was feeling, how she was feeling. Things could never be that simple for them. She turned her head to face him, and realized that he'd somehow wound up right there in front of her, his eyes resplendent and bathed in warm light, his skin glowing. He was probably the most attractive man that she'd ever seen, and it made it that much harder for her to not be distracted by him.

His hand reached out to grab her face, softly, delicately; and then, he pressed his lips into hers, asking for permission. She simply didn't move, their telepathic connection inhibited the two of them enough that words did not need to be exchanged in that moment. He knew that she'd allowed him to go on, and so he did. His lips hungry as he consumed her, merciless as they devoured her.

The both of them dropped their beer onto the floor, and settled deeper into the kiss, forgetting pretty much everything else around them. Rick's hand traced her face downwards, and then her body, until he gripped her hip and pulled her underneath him; instinctively, Michonne wrapped her legs around his waist. Rick responded by grinding himself into her center, and moan.

But, something snapped in Michonne, and she realized that she couldn't continue with it.

"Rick," she breathed, pushing him away. His heavy breath fanned into her face. "We can't."

Confused, Rick furrowed his eyebrows.

"I don't know what I'm doing. I - I asked you here for sex, but we _need_ to talk. I need to," she admitted.

Rick sighed, but knew that she was ultimately right, even if abrupt. He was painfully hard, but he'd live, because he knew that they had to have this conversation with each other. He just didn't know how he'd tell her that he'd loved her since he'd first laid eyes on her, but he could never tell her.

So he chose to be quiet until she started the conversation, maybe then she'd tell him what she was feeling about everything and he wouldn't have to. At least, not yet.

"That night between us - what we shared was real, Rick. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it," she began, pushing a stray dread behind her ear.

"I think about it too," Rick quietly admitted.

"It's all I think about; even when I'm talking to the State Attorney about an important case, I'm thinking about it. I'm _stuck_ in it," she went on. "And it terrifies me."

"It scares me too. It's a new feeling for me. It's - it's different," he finally said, staring at her with complete, unwavering affection.

"But Lori-"

"-Lori and I were havin' issues a bit before Dre died, but when he died all I could think about was you; how you were doing, what you needed, what I could do to make it better," Rick admitted, his eyes averting towards the floor. He took a deep breath before continuing. "I moved you in here and that's when Lori and I - she never understood our friendship. She'd tell me all the time that I would never love her the way I apparently love you. But Andre, he was like my son too. I grieved him too. Carl did. _We_ shared that. We went through somethin'...we did."

The unshed tears in Michonne's eyes finally leaked out like a fixed clogged faucet. The emotions that she'd been holding in for years came to the surface, and cried. She cried for Andre, for Carl, for Rick's failed marriage, for the sheer love that she felt at the moment. The warmth, the earth shattering heartbreak. She thought about how many lives Andre touched in his short life, how many he'd made brighter. And finally, she thought of Mike, an innocent man who'd treated her well.

"Mike always said Andre had two fathers," Michonne smiled wistfully. "That we should make you the godfather and have it be official…"

"I would have wanted that…," Rick told her, his eyes flitting over her beautiful face. "I would have wanted that with you, and Lori knew it. It's why we're divorced."

"I know," she admitted frankly. "I felt a lot of guilt about that. I felt like it was my fault that all of it happened. If Andre hadn't have died, then -"

"-Michonne, if Andre were alive then it wouldn't have changed a damn thing. I left Lori, she didn't leave me," Rick finally admitted, exhaling deeply, as if he'd been carrying a giant weight on his shoulders, and finally released it. A bright smile filled his face as he revealed himself to her. "You didn't do a damn thing, I did. That night - it wasn't the first night that I wanted you. I always have."

"Then why did you - how come you never told me?" Michonne questioned him, confusion and overwhelming emotions filled her.

"I didn't want to lose you, or change things between us, and then after, you were so hurt," he breathed. "I waited until you were ready."

Those words melted Michonne's heart into a puddle of waxy goo on the floor. She simply stared at him, stupefied and stalled by her inability to speak, but he sat there full on _smiling_ at her; the relief in his eyes were palpable. He'd never looked that happy before, not since Carl was a youngin' and was Rick's whole world. Once again, he reached out and touched her face, staring at her as if she was the only important thing in the galaxy.

"Why do you keep trying on me?" She asked in a breathless, heady whisper.

"Why shouldn't I? You're the youngest D.A. in the history of the State, you're hard working, grounded, insanely smart, and on top of that, you're gorgeous," he gushed, finally free to express himself.

"I think you're okay too," She finally quipped, bringing her lips to his.

* * *

Andrea sat at Joe's coffee shop in the south side of Atlanta awaiting Phillip and pondering her life with Shane. She loved him, but for some reason she was starting to feel uneasy, listless, and just plain bored. She would watch Rick and Michonne navigate around each other like corresponding puzzle pieces, but with Shane, they were like jagged edges that came to a close enough fit.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket once more, Shane's name once again shining brightly across the screen. She huffed, And answered. "Hey, Shane."

"Where are you? I haven't been able to reach you all day, and I have something important to tell you," he insisted, his voice extremely solemn and serious.

"What is it?"

Andrea asked this, a bit annoyed that he was choosing now to be serious. Lately, all he had done was bug her about Phillip, and she knew where this was going.

"I'm sure you've seen the new evidence presented to Cap. Monroe, right?"

His voice was insisted, and Andrea scolded herself. She'd yet to look over any evidence that Michonne had provided King County Sheriff's Department. She had been so preoccupied with her own thoughts, and had put off looking until the following morning.

"No, not yet," She replied.

"Look, that guy that you set Michonne up with - our old friend Phillip," Shane paused. "There is surveillance footage of a man wearing a jacket with the initials 'P. Blake,' while leaving with one of the victims and -"

"-You're assuming that it's Phillip," She cut him off harshly.

"I'm not assumin' anything, Andrea. You need to stop taking this guy's side! Rick and I saw what he's capable of, and I'm telling you now that he has something to do with this," Shane insisted.

Andrea shook her head, unable to believe what Shane was telling her. Shane was biased, both he and Rick were.

"You attacked him, both of you did," Andrea argued, her tone harsh.

" _He_ came at Rick, and I wasn't even there when that happened…," Shane trailed off, rubbing the back of his head in confusion.

"If you weren't there then how do you know who attacked who? It's my job to go with innocence until proven guilty, and you know what, right now I'm not sure who is who," Andrea told him.

After she said the words, she saw Phillip enter the small coffee shop, dressed to the nines. His hair was slicked back, his face smooth like butter, eyepatch over one eye, and an intense gaze in the other; he wore a perfectly tailored navy blue suit, and a white, crisp shirt underneath. She felt her mouth drop open, and her face flush a bit.

"Shane, I gotta go," She told him, clicking the phone off.

* * *

Michonne pressed her lips to Rick's once more, and then pulled away. He opened his eyes and stared back at her, stunned by what he saw there in them. These were the same eyes that he had seen all of those years ago; those deep brown eyes that took hold of his soul and refused to let go.

She felt him lightly pull at her arm, and then get up, urging her towards the bedroom. And so, she followed him, slowly and nervously, down the hall. The hallway was adorned with pictures of her family, her son, Rick holding her son, her friends in college. She had refused to let go of that part of herself, stubbornly holding onto pieces of who she used to be and who she was supposed to become.

Rick opened her bedroom door, and guided her inside, pulling her body towards the large queen sized bed. She fell down, and spread her legs on instinct, and immediately Rick dove in between them, landing there like Michael Phelps in an Olympic pool, perfect and with a determined stride.

His hands trailed up her bare legs, tiny electric beams pulsating up straight into her core and she gyrated against his warm body, which was just out of reach. He looked into her warm, dark eyes and pressed his lips against her once more.

She pushed him away a bit, that nervous trepidation pulling her out of the moment. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah," he replied without missing a beat.

And so, she let him undress her slowly, carefully removing her panties, and continuing his descent up between them. She averted her hooded eyes downward, and saw him, _felt_ him sweep his nose up her leg, inhaling her scent as if she were the sweetest ambrosia.

"You smell good," he finally mumbled, before his nose landed right on her center. She jerked back, but he held her firmly in place, his tongue tracing her sopping outer lips. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

The words, breathed out in one husky whisper made her impossibly wetter, as the tip of his tongue encircled her entrance, and his deft fingers pinched and encircled her aching clit. Her body felt like it was on fire, her soul felt like it was on another hemisphere as he worked her. His thick tongue pushed in deeper, and his full lips sucked on her juices, creating a tension in her lower belly.

She felt herself making sounds that were absolutely foreign to her own ears; a strange mixture between whimper, shout, and moan.

She knew that she was nearly _there_ , right at the precipice, but she couldn't let herself go. But suddenly, she felt herself go around, as Rick's lips kissed up her body until they found her lips, and he replaced his mouth which two thick fingers; the unexpected intrusion caused her to come immediately, all over his hands; her juices gushing everywhere.

She lay back on the bed, a boneless heap and then grinned. "Damn, Grimes, you really outdid yourself."

"Oh, I'm just getting started," he quipped with a wide grin, pulling her body onto his once more.

* * *

Phillip sat across from Andrea at the small cafe, a smarmy grin plastered across his face. They'd sat there for nearly fifteen minutes, mostly talking about the daunting Robinson case that lurked over the entire jurisdiction. She'd informed him that she only knew of Captain Monroe's new information and that she'd sent out of her two best Deputies - Deputy Rick Grimes and Deputy Shane Walsh - to interrogate the owners and also establish that the owners had proper permits to two guns on the premises. If they could possibly charge them with something, then they could question the manager about the tapes.

"And it was Rick Grimes who she's sending to do this? When?" Phillip asked with vested interest.

"Tomorrow…," Andrea trailed off, narrowing her eyes. "But I thought that we were going to talk about what happened the night that you got into a fight with him…"

"Oh, right. I was just walking your lovely friend Michonne to her car when Grimes shows up out of nowhere and starts his juvenile assaults," Phillip said. "I, of course, defended myself. He got upset."

"Well, that makes sense, I guess. It just doesn't seem like Rick at all," Andrea shook her head, deep in thought.

Phillip grabbed her hand and then a sinister smile crossed his face. "How well do you really know Rick?"

And Andrea pondered it. _Not well, he's Michonne's friend not my friend,_ she thought to herself. Maybe Michonne can be wrong about someone sometimes. And so she decided to believe Phillip.

"Not well," she admitted.

Phillip continued to smile, knowing that he had to perfect pawn; an assistant District Attorney who was gullible and friends with the District Attorney and Deputy who were directly responsible in covering up his wrong doings. His newest victim - Enid Robinson - sat in his country house bound and gagged, and no one was the wider.

Phillip stood up, preparing to leave. "Well, I'll be on my way now."

"But you haven't finished your food," Andrea pointed out.

"Toss it and here," he slipped her a fifty dollar bill. "For the bill."

* * *

The following morning, Rick and Michonne awoke tangled up in each other to the sound of Rick's phone ringing off the hook. Rick groaned, not wanting to answer, and only wanting to stay in this beautiful place with Michonne forever, but life called like an unwelcome Thanksgiving visitor, and he knew that he had work to do.

He grumbled a bit, trying to untangle his body without disturbing Michonne, who cradled his pec like a baby. She huffed a bit in her sleep, crinkling her brows together in the cutest expression before slipping back into a deep sleep.

He checked the caller I.D. before answering, and groaned when he saw Lori's name plastered across the screen.

"Hello," he drawled out into the phone.

"Finally, I'm getting a hold of _someone_ much less Carl's father," she snipped.

"I let you have Carl an extra day this week, there's no need for your tone, Lo -"

"- Then where are you? 'Cause I'm at your house tryin' to drop off _your_ son and you're not here," she said, her voice dripping with icy accusation.

"I'm in Atlanta, I got called in early," he lied, well half of a lie; he was in Atlanta, and he had worked up quite a sweat last night.

Lori was silent for a moment, as if debating whether or not her ex-husband was telling the truth or not. "Fine, but I expect you to pick up Carl by nine this evening. Bye."

And with that she hung up. Rick shook his head and threw the phone on the side table, content to just spend the rest of his day cuddled up with Michonne, but he knew that he had work to do. He and Shane had to check out that gas station in the video, and find out if Mr. Patrick Herpu had his permits on those two guns underneath the register; he hoped that he didn't so that they could do a civilian arrest and possibly get a break in the Robinson serial killer for Captain Monroe.

His thoughts about the case were disrupted by Michonne finally moving from next to him. When she opened her eyes, a wide smile spread across her face as she pulled herself up and kissed his soft pink lips. "Good morning," she whispered giddily.

"Good morning," he responded with similar enthusiasm.

"I have to go to work," she admitted. "Or else I would totally stay and bang you silly again."

"And I wouldn't mind that," he winked, pressing his lips against hers, but she pushed him away and got out of the bed.

She worked on her dress shirt, and skirt, searching around for a blazer to complete the outfit. Rick simply watched her and , secretly loving that she'd chosen to forgo a shower and wear his scene all throughout the day. Once she was done, she waited for him to dress, and pulled him into her kitchen.

"Do you want to do this again?" she whispered, almost vulnerably.

After his confessions last night, he was sure that she wouldn't have any doubts about where they stood or how he felt for her, but it seems like she did have some worries, some deep seated fears ingrained in the crevices of her fragile heart.

"Of course," he answered.

"Okay," she responded simply, going to the refrigerator to pull out bacon and a package of sausages. "Bacon or sausages?"

"You know I hate bacon," he told her.

She huffed, then giggled. "I know because you're the _only person_ on the face of the earth to hate bacon!"

"And I'm proud of that," he smirked, watching her start the stove.

In that moment, he felt so happy; Lori couldn't touch him hear, the case didn't exist, and neither did the outside world. All that existed was Michonne and her wonderful smelling sausages, her bright smile, and the promise of tomorrow.

* * *

 _Last night_

 _Rick and Michonne stumbled down the hallway that lead back towards the party, and the crowd of their inebriated friends. All the while, they giggled like young kids who had just initiated the best prank ever, only in their case, they were two horny adults who were about to get some._

 _Rick pushed Michonne's body against the door nearest to the entrance of the party, and pressed his nose against her neck, inhaling her earthy scent. "You smell really good," He whispered huskily._

 _She didn't know what to say to that, so she chose to grip the curls at the nape of his neck tightly and push him back into her lips. When she did, they came crashing together hungrily, like two starving men who'd been offered the delicacies of a private chef; insatiable in the newfound taste in it. They'd probably never get enough of it._

 _Their eyes locked, the world behind them became hazy. He leaned in, and went for the kiss -_

 _\- But the door creaked open from behind them, and in walked Shane. His dark hair looked ruffled, his cheeks were a bit flushed, and his glass of whiskey seemed nearly empty. A blazed Shane was not a good combo for a Rick and Michonne who were about to get it in in the hallway._

 _Shane's beady brown eyes darted between the pair like a ball during a ping pong match, as he attempted to piece together what he was seeing. He'd bet Glenn $20 bucks that the two of them had fucked tonight, but obviously, he needed proof of it._

" _What were y'all doin' down there so long?" He asked, scratching his head._

 _Rick averted his eyes nervously, and Michonne looked back with unflinching eyes._

" _We were just getting some more alcohol to do shots, but we couldn't find any," She lied coolly._

" _Are y'all gonna come back to the party?" Shane continued to eye them suspiciously, knowing that something went down, but he didn't have proof of it._

 _All he saw was Rick's wild curly locks, bright red skin, and his mussed up clothing; Michonne on the other hand, still looked immaculate, as always._

 _He saw Rick nervously shuffle side to side before Michonne spoke once more, handling the intrusion like the pro she was."Actually, I've got to be going now. I've got several important - um - cases in the morning."_

" _What about you, Rick? Glenn's work friend really wants to meet you…," Shane pressed on._

" _Nah, I was going to take Michonne home, and then go to bed myself."_

" _Okay then. Y'all...have fun," Shane told them both, giving them one more once over before awkwardly walking back to the party, mumbling something about "bets" and "twenty fucking bucks" under his breath._

 _Once Shane began his descent back to the party, Rick and Michonne quickly took off to Rick's car, and hopped inside, hoping that no one would ask them any questions or even notice their absence. But, for the first time in the whirlwind evening, they finally had time to truly process what they'd just done, and what they were about to do._

 _Michonne found herself touching her lips, her neck, her arms with the tips of her fingers. When she closed her eyes, she could still feel him there all around her. But instead of wanting it to stop, she wanted more. So, so much more._

" _You ready?" He asked her._

 _She took a deep breath, and then grabbed his hand. "Yeah."_


	7. Chapter 7

**Author note: I struggled with this chapter too, but from here on out, the pace will be pretty rapid. I plan to finish this story out in a few chapters, but I appreciate the support. Thank you.**

 **I'm also sorry if there are errors. My bad!**

 **Chapter Seven: The Webs We Weave**

Young Enid Robinson rubbed her wrists, and crawled out of her small, dank bed. She couldn't remember where she was, or what had happened to get her to this point in her life. She had been playing in the park with her classmate Duane Jones when an older man with an eyepatch approached her, and even though he seemed a bit strange, she talked to him.

She remembers him being nice enough to her; asking her about her mother and father, who'd died in a car crash several years prior, and her foster mother, who wasn't very nice. All the while Enid answered honestly, unsuspecting of anything.

"How old are you?" he'd asked her.

Her emerald eyes danced around as she contemplated giving him her actual age - eleven - or stretching the truth like her gut told her to.

"Fifteen," She lied quickly.

He didn't believe her. "My name's Phillip. You look mighty young to be fifteen. How about I take you to the store and buy you something sweet?"

She hadn't trusted him at the time, but she was hungry, and her weakness was sweet foods, so she'd gone with him, and after he'd bought her her candy, he lured her to the parking lot and knocked her unconscious. When she'd awoken, she was bound and gagged in a small room that reeked of death, and she couldn't remember anything. That had been days ago, she suspected, and in that time, she hadn't seen him once.

That was until the door creaked open, and he stepped inside. "Hello, I see you're finally awake, Enid."

"Where am I?" She demanded, struggling to move. "Why are you keeping me here?"

"I'm playing a little game with your little friend's father," Phillip chuckled menacingly. "You're the last Robinson on my list."

"What do you mean?"

"Your friend Carl - his father owes me something, you see," Phillip paused, walking closer to the young girl, which caused her to shiver.

"Then why don't you take it out with him?"

"It's deeper than that."

He said, and then he walked out once more, closing the door.

Enid was his final Robinson victim, but for the first time, it would be personal, and he'd finally get his revenge against Rick Grimes.

* * *

Rick arrived at the small gas station with Shane. It was shady on the outside, located on the corner of a neighborhood of several drug related busts, prostitution, and gang related violence. Several white men huddled at the corner, while women in short shorts and wildly colored hair walked around like something akin to a circus in the '70s. The scenery grew more bizarre as Rick and Shane exited the police vehicle, and walked up the fading concrete sidewalk. All of the posters on the door were from several years prior, and there was a strange odor emitting from the ground nearby.

Rick shrugged, inhaling deeply as to not use his nose longer than he needed to and entered. Shane attempted to come, but Rick stopped him. "I think we need someone outside to watch out for anythin' suspect."

Shane nodded, understanding exactly what Rick meant. His hand went to his gun as the pair exchange a heady glance and then Rick was in.

The store itself didn't smell much better, but Rick immediately spotted the cameras - two of them - located closest to the front register. There was so much random shit in the store: strange Japanese candy, strange fruit, objects that you couldn't quite identify sorted amongst tight and narrow aisles.

Rick finally made it to the front of the store, and instead of finding Mr. Herpu, he saw a strange looking woman sitting behind the register counting money. Her hair was the strangest part of her; short, jagged bangs and hair that didn't reach her collar bone, an uneven auburn and blonde dye, dark black clothes that covered her from neck down, and a tall, lithe physique similar to that of a giraffe in the wild. The woman sent a chill down his spine.

"What brings you to these parts, Officer -"

" - _Deputy_ Grimes, ma'am, from King County's Sheriff Department," he corrected her stiffly. "We were investigating the Robinson murders, and one of our suspect's missing victims - Enid Robinson," Rick paused to show her photo. "Was spotted here with a man who was wearing a jacket 'P. Blake,' and we were wonderin' if -"

"If I assist? No," she cut him off shortly. "I don't know who you're talking about or this girl."

"They were just in your store, and I'm sure business ain't that quick in these parts," Rick snarked, his eyes scanning the empty store.

"I do not recognize her," she insisted. "And Mr. Herpu has...been away on an extended vacation."

"About Mr. Herpu...we know that he's carrying two guns, and we'd like the permits for them," he said. "Carryin' an unlicensed gun in the state of Georgia is a second degree misdemeanor."

"He'd have those papers, not me," the woman insisted.

"Are you aware that the guns don't have permits and aren't registered?" He questioned her. "That's grounds for arrest too. Come on."

"The guns are registered, Deputy Grimes. I registered them in my name just a day or so ago," the woman smirked with satisfaction. Something about her creeped Rick out.

"And your name?"

"Jadis."

"Alright, Jadis, got a last name?"

She smirked some more. "Herpu. Mr. Herpu is my uncle."

"Okay, Jadis, do you know anything about this man?" he asked, pulling up the surveillance photo of 'P. Blake.'

"He comes in here a lot," the strange woman said shiftily, averting her eyes around the store, before turning to face him again. "He's tall, wears an eye patch, always has a girl with him."

" _That_ girl was with him, we suspect that he's abducted her, and if you know anything about this, you've got to tell us, or I will run those guns right now," Rick explained sternly, once again sliding Enid's picture across towards her.

Jadis gulped, once again shifting around as if frightened or hiding something. She looked directly at Rick, her beady eyes darting around like a ping pong ball mid match. "That girl was with him, yes. She looked very young to me."

Rick nodded, watching as the woman - Jadis - retreated further back behind the counter, to the point where he could barely see her behind the tall glass boxes filled with scratch off tickets and lottery games and cigarettes. He tilted his head suspiciously, following her closely with his eyes.

"That girl you're looking for, Deputy Grimes - I suggest you stop looking," she said, before retreating into a back door behind the counter.

The words stayed with him, sending a chill down his spine.

:

Rick left the store with a little more information about the suspect than he'd had before, and definitely enough for a sketch to be done. He was even more sure that Phillip was the perpetrator of this crime, and when he greeted Shane by the door he planned to tell him of this.

"Store owner is Jadis Herpu, she said Enid was young, and the guy wore an eyepatch, was tall," Rick explained, tilting his head and squinting towards the now empty street. In neighborhoods like this, cops were a secret alert to get going. "It ain't much, but she said he's been bringing other girls around."

"We could go over those tapes again, see if we can identify anyone else with him," Shane suggested.

"I was thinkin' the same," Rick answered. "We better go back, tell Captain Monroe."

Shane nodded in agreement as they took off towards the Sherrif's Department in their car. Rick noted that Shane looked stressed the fuck out, as he'd constantly been rubbing his head, and rolling his eyes.

"You alright?" Rick asked, turning the corner.

"Nah, man," Shane admitting, sighing heavily. "Andrea has been ridin' my dick about this Phillip issue. I've been telling her that he ain't no good, but she won't listen."

"Andrea is her own person, and once we get him, she'll listen," Rick told him.

He placed a comforting hand on Shane's shoulder, which seemed to ease the tension radiating out of him.

"Speaking of riding dicks...," Shane said, smiling a bit. "You finally got Michonne, didn't you?"

Rick's face and neck turned a deep red, as he shuffled nervously into their police cruiser, but Shane's grin turned mischievous as he took in his best friend's flushed face. Rick had gotten down last night, and he knew it. He definitely wasn't letting him get off easy.

"We talked last night, about some things," Rick admitted vaguely.

He twiddled his hands nervously on the steering wheel as Shane smirked; he wanted to sink into the seat.

"Some _thangs_ , Rick?"

"Yes, some _thangs_ , Shane, and we…," he blushed, not knowing why he was so nervous. "And we ended up together again."

"Y'all labelled it yet?"

Shane's question confounded Rick, because he didn't have an answer for him. Sure, they'd talked things over in regards to giving things a chance, and they'd been intimate again, but there wasn't a name for it. He didn't know if Michonne was now his girlfriend, or if he was just someone that he had feelings for, and they'd acted upon these feelings. He also knew that they _had_ to talk about this soon, or it'd probably bother him more than it should.

Rick started up the car, and headed towards the station. "We're - I don't know. We're figuring things out."

"Just make sure that you label it A.S.A. motherfuckin' P. If you're serious about her, then there can't be no confusion," Shane advised, and Rick nodded, knowing that he was right.

* * *

Michonne sat down at her desk, feeling more content than she had in some time. She felt all of the weight that had burdened her when she fought against her feelings for Rick simply slipping away, and what was left was some type of giddiness. She couldn't stop smiling, she couldn't stop thinking about the way that he felt between her thighs, hell, she could still smell him on her clothes.

But her thoughts were swiftly interrupted by a stressed looking Andrea whispering testily into her iPhone. Michonne decided to busy herself with a few cases while her friend yelled obscenities to her other friend Shane. She wasn't exactly sure what was going on with their relationship, but Andrea was very distracted lately.

Michonne flipped through the caseload for the day. Most of it was run of the mill stuff having to do with the district; pardons needed, warrants, and special cases that needed to be tried. There was always the occasional person suing the district for a change in a law or an unfair rule. But, a new piece of information for the Robinson case stuck out to her.

"Andrea," she attempted to call her friend who was still immersed in her phone call. She sighed heavily, not having the patience for it. "Andrea, we have work to do."

After a moment, Andrea rolled her eyes and hung up, sitting across from Michonne. "Sorry about that, Shane is just on my fucking case about something that happened last night."

"What happened?" Michonne's interest was piqued.

"Phillip Blake asked me to meet him at a coffee place last night and I went," Andrea admitted, but immediately went on the defensive at Michonne's stern glare. "It wasn't like that!"

"I'm sure it wasn't, Andrea, but I've told you that he's not right and you don't listen to me. I've got several complaints because of unfinished cases," Michonne said, flipping through their overloaded workload as emphasis. "I don't know what's going on with you lately, but Shane is right."

"I knew that I shouldn't have told you anything…,' she mumbled, rolling her eyes again.

Michonne crossed her arms over her chest, scowling at her. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, we don't even know what happened that night. Do we?" Andrea asked Michonne, who now sat back further, her brow tilted up in disbelief.

"I was there, and so was Rick," Michonne reminded her.

"And how do I know that you're not just taking his side?"

"I am taking his side, Andrea. He's my friend. You know that he'd never do that."

"Do I? Do I _really_ , Michonne? Because that's your friend, not mine," Andrea stared at her, her light blue eyes hardened and cold.

"You've known Rick since college! You all may not be braiding each other's hair, but I'd believe him over some fucking weirdo who wears an eye patch," Michonne said.

She was trying so hard to not raise her voice and alert anyone to their argument, but it was hard. She loved Andrea, and Andrea was one of her closest friends, but now, she was reevaluating things. Reevaluating her. The person in front of her was someone that she could scarcely recognize.

"Isn't our job to hold everyone to the same standards?"

"Yes, but you're being naive if you don't think that this guy is playing you," Michonne shot back. "Look, we have work to do, so I'm done talking about this and -"

"- Everyone should just bow to Rick Grimes now that you're fucking him?"

"What the fuck, Andrea?"

Michonne was surprised that Andrea felt this way; it would've hurt less if she'd slapped her, the scalding pain scorched the same though.

"You heard me."

"You know what, I'm not doing this with you," Michonne told her. "Take the day off, and come in tomorrow with a clear head."

And with that Michonne turned around, not wanting to entertain bullshit so early in the morning. Andrea took the hint, her high heels clanking against the hardwood floor as she exited the room. Michonne decided to focus on work, hoping that Andrea would get her shit together soon.

It was then that Michonne flipped through the Robinson case and inspected it thoroughly. So far, there wasn't even enough evidence for a motion with a judge, much less a conviction, with it being a string of homicides with no clear links except a surname. All of the women were bound, starved, and found in a suitcase on the rougher side of town; all of them shared a surname, but there wasn't DNA evidence to link anyone in particular, and she knew without that, they truly had nothing.

And then she read the name of the latest victim - Enid Robinson, the girl's name was vaguely familiar. She went to her desk and turned on her computer, deciding to run her name through the database of foster children or missing person's. She immediately got a hit, and realized how she recognized the young girl.

 _Carl_.

She pulled out her phone, and texted Rick immediately.

 _ **Rick, Enid Robinson is Carl's friend. You need to recheck with her foster mother to figure out how long she's been gone.**_

 _ **On it. I'll run it through with Cap.**_

 _ **OK, good. Wanna do dinner tonight after Lori gets Carl?**_

She pondered it for a second, smirking giddily at the thought of seeing him again.

 _ **Sure. Be careful. I'll see you tonight.**_

* * *

Rick and Shane entered the Sheriff's Department, eager to tell Captain Monroe what information they'd gathered at the gas station, and also eager to review the tapes to identify and tie other victims to this man. And also to pull up information that Michonne had informed him of - questioning Enid Robinson's foster mother, who had yet to come in about her missing daughter. But, before they could get to her office, Carl's friend Duane and his father Morgan Jones stood in the lobby, looking anxious.

"Morgan?" Rick questioned him curiously, eying Duane, whose eyes were firmly on the floor.

"Deputy Grimes," he began. "My son has some information that you may find helpful regarding Enid."

Rick remembered Duane very well, he went to King County Elementary with Enid Robinson, and the two of them were good friends with Carl. With everything that had been going on as of late, he hadn't put it together in his mind that this serial killer had targeted someone so close to him, but now it dawned upon him that they had.

Rick averted his eyes back to the young boy, his usually smiling face and bright brown eyes were riddled with anxiety. He shifted on his feet and looked to his father, unable to meet Rick's eyes.

"Let's go talk somewhere private," Rick offered. "Somewhere safe."

"And you promise - you promise that nobody will know what I said?"

His voice shook; Rick felt bad. He was so scared, so he leaned down at eye level, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I promise you, Duane, nobody can hurt you for tellin' the the truth," He encouraged him.

Duane looked to his father. "I'm ready."

* * *

"I was at the park with Enid a couple days ago," Duane said nervously clutching his father's hand. "Some creepy old guy started talking to Enid, told her his name was Phillip. I thought it was strange, but Enid is tough," Duane went on. "I haven't seen Enid since, but I didn't say anything because I was scared."

"It's okay to be scared, Duane. Nobody will hurt you here, alright?" Rick assured him. "But you're going to have to tell us everything that you remember so that we can catch him."

Encouraged by this, Duane sat taller. "We was at the King County Park past main street, and it was almost dark outside."

"What did this man look like?"

"He was tall," Duane nodded to himself. "He was like a giant. And he had an eye patch like a pirate," Duane continued. "His hair was brown, and he was white, like he was sick or something. The guy was pretty creepy."

"Do you remember if Phillip had a car that he may have taken Enid in?"

"He had a blue van, I think," Duane told Rick. "Like the one's moms drive."

"Okay, that's good, Duane," Rick said, noting the boy's discomfort. "I'll give you a little break now, okay?"

Relieved, Duane exhaled deeply. "Thank you."

* * *

After questioning Duane for a few hours, Rick gathered all of the evidence together with Shane. The first victim had disappeared off the campus of Georgia State university - the college that he'd attended with Shane, and Phillip. Her name was Anna Robinson: Caucasian, relatively young, green eyes. She'd disappeared one night, only to be found three days later in an abandoned warehouse. The next victim, exactly one year later, was Holly Robinson, who disappeared from a shopping center in King County. She to was found dead three days later in an abandoned warehouse. One year after that, Gina Robinson, the oldest victim - thirty five - was found bound and gagged underneath a laundromat. She had skin underneath her nails, which had not been ran, but otherwise there wasn't a link to this killer, so he knew that they were down to Enid Robinson. He also figured that if this killer usually killed after three days, and he took girls frequently to the Herpu gas station, then they didn't have much time.

"We have enough in Duane's testimony to book him," Rick told Shane.

Shane agreed. "We need to call him into the station and do a line up. If Duane him, then we can get him on aggravated kidnapping."

"The only problem with that is that we don't know where Enid is," Rick sighed heavily.

"If we can get him in here, then we can find out," Shane argued, and Rick had to agree that he was right.

"Let's go," Rick said, heading out to secure Phillip.

He knew that they didn't have much time.

* * *

Meanwhile, Phillip had left Enid in an old abandoned house in the outskirts of Georgia and he knew that no one would be able to find her there. Based on what Andrea had told him, they were closing in on him as a suspect on the Robinson murders. What they hadn't known was that these women were only his public victims, and he'd killed far more women than that. He likened himself to a pro by now, able to execute any murder and get away with it, but the Robinson case was personal to him.

He decided to quickly call Andrea, knowing that once again he needed her to get to the one person who could hurt Rick the most: Michonne.

He dialed the numbers swiftly, waiting while the ringtone filled his ears. "Andrea, hello," he told her, using his most charming voice. "I need you to do something for me."

" _What is that?"_ She asked him.

"I need you and Michonne to come meet me somewhere," he began. "I know that she's probably upset at our meeting, but maybe, if we all talk, then we can get to the bottom of this."

" _Okay, but where?"_

"There's a gas station on the west side of King County…," he trailed off.

"Okay, I'm listening…," she responded.

 _Perfect_ , he thought. _Everything is going according to plan_.

"Bring Michonne to the address that I text you within the next hour or so," he explained. "Make sure that it's just the two of you, and once you get there, we'll talk."

"Alright, I'm going back to get her now," She told him. "I'm sure that once she talks to you again, and gives you a real chance, then she'll believe you."

"Oh, I'm sure of it," Rick chuckled darkly. "I've got to go now, see you soon."

And with that, he clicked the phone shut.

* * *

Michonne sat at her desk. She'd been overwhelmed with work for most of the day and was tempted to leave early and maybe try to sort things out with Andrea, but she didn't have the time or the energy. After a moment of silence, the door creaked open, revealing Andrea. She seemed apologetic, her light eyes filled with some mysterious wonder in them. But she also seemed determined for whatever reason.

"Hey, Michonne," She said sweetly. "I'm sorry about earlier. How about I buy you something to eat somewhere?"

"But I've got all of these cases to work on -"

" - _Meesh_ , come on," She begged. "Just this once."

And even though Michonne had a terrible feeling in her gut at Andrea's turn around, she decided to ignore her gut and trust her. She got up from her desk, leaving the Robinson case right on top and exiting out of the building with Andrea.

 _ **We're on our way**_

Andrea texted, before they got into Michonne's car, and headed towards the address that Phillip had texted him.

They drove for awhile, beyond the hills and valleys of Georgia; the setting sun in the horizon. They finally got to King County, but drove quickly past main street and the park. The further out they went, the more anxious Michonne became, and when they finally did stop, the area didn't seem to be the best.

The gas station seemed vaguely familiar, Michonne thought, but she was honestly so tired that she didn't think about it. Andrea also seemed confused by where they were, her eyes darting to the white men at the corner, who smoked weed and snorted things up their noses in broad daylight.

She turned to look back at Michonne, feeling like she too, had been duped.

But she ignored it, the both of them heading inside the gas station, and down the narrowed aisles of random assorted products until they reached the counters. The both of them looked up, and the cameras that were usually set up there were gone.

Michonne looked at Andrea. "Andrea, this is the gas station from the case."

"It is, but we're just here to talk to Phillip, he said -"

"That guy is no good, I'm getting the fuck out of here," Michonne pushed past Andrea, running to the exit, but suddenly, a tall, lithe woman appeared, and she felt the tell tale signs of a gun being pressed to the base of her skull.

"No so fast," the woman purred into her ear. "Your fuck buddy Grimes should've taken my guns today, but it's too late for you both."

"What do you mean?" Andrea nearly yelled, her eyes anxiously jumping around as she watched Michonne restrained with a gun to the head.

"It means you're dead," came the voice of Phillip, who held the second gun to her head.

* * *

 _Last night_

 _Sometime later in the evening, Michonne snuggled into Rick's side, content to hear the sounds of his fluttering heartbeat. She'd never felt so safe._

" _I know you don't know what this is right now," Rick whispered to her, stroking her dreads. "And in the morning, maybe you'll forget, but for now, you're safe."_

 _And she did feel safe, knowing that as long as he was in her life, she would be._


End file.
